Homecoming
by Oceania
Summary: After running away from his parent's anger, he came home and was sunk into a nightmare. Completed. :)
1. Prologue The Night

There are themes of abortion and anger management. Thus the rating of PG-13

Homecoming

_Six a.m day after Christmas_

_I throw some clothes on in the dark_

_The smell of cold_

_Car seat is freezing_

_The world is sleeping and I am_

_Numb._

In the dark, he groped for his keys on his cluttered desk and grabbed his leather jacket from the over utilized clothes rack just next to his door. Cursing silently, he sent the Spiderman figurine which was left forgotten on the floor skidding across his room with just one kick. Served Spidey right for jabbing his toe.

Quietly, he tiptoed passed his brother's door, knowing his brother's sleep was as light as a feather drifting in a helium atmosphere. It was so cold that January and it seemed like the snow won't be thawing for a very long time, at least not for him. His parents were sleeping soundly in the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, oblivious to his intentions.

Only he alone was awake. The quietness was threatening to burst his eardrums. Insects went into hibernation under a blanket of mocking stars. The indifferent, yawning moon lazily tolerated its watch over this part of the world, raising no alarm to his movements. He left the house, opened up the front gates and stepped inside the black van. The heater was acting up and he shivered against the wintry air biting at his nose and fingertips. 

The van rolled out of the compound after a waiting spell because the driver was grappling with indecision for a prolonged moment. He drove slowly because some street lights were not working and the roads were slippery- almost treacherous. His heart pounded so hard against his chest and he could hear his damning thoughts screaming in the hollow chamber of his mind, reverberating off the walls with increasing momentum.

His lips trembled but not from the outwardly cold. It was more than he could bear- the worst decision of his life. Worst.

_Up the stairs to her apartment_

_She is balled up on the couch_

_Her mom and dad went down to Charlotte_

_They're not home to find us out._

Her house which was renovated from an old farm was only about half an hour's drive from his. However, the journey was exceptionally long at that ghastly time and for a moment, he felt like he had been driving forever. Still under the cloak of the night, he pulled up outside her gates, climbed his way into their driveway and unlatched the side gate from the inside for later. With heavy footfalls made more burdened by his perfidious emotions which intensified when he really wanted them to be numbed like his fingertips, he made his way to the wooden door of her mother's home office which used to be a barn and separated from the main house.

Using the key she had given him, he unlocked the door and pushed it open to find her huddling up against the wall in a corner, bathed under the dimmed lighting which illuminated her fragile, shaking beauty. The computer was switched on- a digitalized caricature of him surfed across the concave screen, staring blankly at nothing with bloodshot eyes. Dark circles under her dulled grey orbs were mirrored from those under his eyes and her pale cheeks were mutely shining with sticky tears. Wordlessly, he embraced her with as much tenderness as he could muster and she nodded, indicating that she was ready. They left the barn for his van with his arm draped across her quavering shoulders the entire time. 

It was turning into a blustery winter night when they made their way to Porter's Bay, a smaller town just next to their city, Bayport. The clinic in Porter's Bay was opened twenty four hours a day.

_And we drive_

_Now that I have found someone_

_I'm feeling more alone_

_Than I ever have before_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly._

He knew he would always remember the cold, detached clinic. He would always be able to picture the nurse behind the registration counter with her beak nose and impassive eyes, listlessly reiterating the different fields of the forms they have to fill. Probably the hardened woman used to be able to feel a heady confusion of emotions for those desperate teenagers like them but as years passed, so they too were numbed. 

They were the first couple there and he would admit he was surprised to find it empty. She held on to his arm the whole time, trembling with the enormity of what she was about to do, no, what _they_ were about to do. With his free hand, being rather ambidextrous, he filled up the forms, led her to a seat, and went over to the vending machine for a cup of hot chocolate for her. When he returned, she refused to take even a sip and he did not pressure her. On a rack drilled high up on the wall supported a television showing flashing horrific images of the deed. He was transfixed with a sense of morbidity and so was she. She gripped his arm tighter still, her knuckles bleeding white. Absentmindedly, he patted her hand, while he was already drowning in his own guilt.

He wanted to tell her that they could not do this- they never should. It ran contrary to all that he fought for though he wondered if he was still worthy of his morals and beliefs.

_They called her name at seven-thirty_

_I pace around the parking lot_

_Then I walk down to buy her flowers_

_And sell some gifts that I got_

_Can't you see? _

_It's not me you're dying for_

_Now she's feeling more alone_

_Than she ever has before_

She was called into the doctor's office for the mandatory counseling the clinic made compulsory. He had no idea about the exact chronicle of procedures but most likely, it would all end up in the same conclusion. Should he barge in and stop her? Stop them? But she said it was her body.

Yes. It was her body. It was _their mistake. But it was __not their life. Who were they to make the decision for another who had never harmed them in anyway? They were nobody. He felt selfish for wanting to extricate himself out of this mess via the operating theater. He felt selfish laying a death sentence on someone created partly out of him._

And he was feeling very guilty- with each tick of the clock, the guilt grew heavier.

There was a florist just next to the clinic. He went in and bought her a bunch of white lilies. White lilies too symbolized death. He was now baffled about whom he was buying the flowers for. Anger took the place of helplessness and frustration. He stormed the lilies into the dirty snow and kicked the side of his van repeatedly. 

It was not too late.

He dashed into the clinic, ignoring the nurse's frown at the squeaks caused by rubber soles skidding across tiled ground. The sun was rising behind him and she was trying to stop him with yells but he was too fast. Before he could intrude into the doctor's office though, the door opened and there she was at the entrance with wet eyes glimmering sadness.

"No… don't do this…" He gripped her hands tightly. Another nurse appeared from nowhere with a dark green gown for her. "It's our mistake but let's not make it pay… Ness… please… I beg you… please…"

She burst into tears and he drew her close to him, crying along with her. The nurse with the gown exchanged glances with the doctor behind his girlfriend before shrugging as she turned away. They would not need her assistance, she must have gathered. If he had bionic ears, he might hear her heart sighing with relief.

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

The van made its way in muted daylight back to Bayport. Again in silence he drove. She stared blankly out of her side of the window, thinking of the uncertain future probably. He had to be strong for the both of them now though he was scared to death. But he knew they made the right decision. He knew they did.

_As the weeks went by_

_It showed that she was not fine_

_They told me, "Son, it's time to tell the truth."_

_She broke down, and I broke down_

_Cause I was tired of lying_

And so they tried to hide it until they were ready. She wore looser clothes while he took on more part-time jobs. His brother was getting worried, thinking he was saving up for a new car or college and tried to talk to him but he was atypically reticent. He was exhausted at the end of the day, his grades were tumbling, and he was alienating friends and family. She quarreled with him often; but he was not without blame for, owing to exhaustion unrelieved by sleep, he held a chest load of anger at everybody and most of all, at himself. He was furious that he could not provide for her, that she had to hide her tummy with those baggy t-shirts of his. She had started a trend in school, that of girlfriends sauntering to-and-fro the hallways of the campus in their boyfriend's clothes, but instead of having her head held up high, she kept hers low, stressed by the lack of support they were too afraid to seek.

However, despite the strain of their frequent tiffs, they always made up. She grew more attached to the baby and the most beautiful moments they had, the moments when love dictated their actions, was when she lay on his taut stomach as they tried to think of names for their baby which, they knew by then, was a girl. 

He drew strength from the love he had already for his unborn child. He hoped, with all his heart, that she would be as lovely as her mother but with a head of light golden hair.

Finally, her stomach was starting to show blatantly but he hadn't earned enough. One night, when he returned home from the petrol kiosk, she was in the living room with her mother. His parents were there and so was his concerned brother.

She was trembling badly and so was he. Their parents had the most strenuous discussion but he could not remember the exact words that had exchanged. Her mother blamed him and told them that she was transferred to another school in another state far away from him. When she had given birth, the baby would be adopted by her childless cousin and her husband. She would go to college in England and start anew. He kept silent, trying to make eye contact with her. She kept silent, keeping her eyes trained on the table. His brother kept silent, feeling uncomfortable and worried for him. Only his parents and her mother were talking. His parents kept apologizing for him. That much he remembered.

_Driving home to her apartment_

_For a moment we're alone_

_Yeah she's alone_

_I'm alone_

_Now I know it_

When the guests left, his parents dragged him into the kitchen. His father's angry eyes, bubbling with silent temper, stabbed daggers into his palpitating heart. His mother ranted at him and as tension rose, terrible words of rage were hurled like hailing curses. He remembered shouting back at them and making his mother cry with so much unspeakable wrath. His father then slapped him hard- his father never slapped him before. The loud crack of a punishing palm against unmarked cheek echoed throughout the house.

He turned and ran away before the brimming tears could fall. As he dashed up the stairs to his room, his father hollered furiously at him to apologize to his mother. His brother tried to halt his escape by grabbing his hand but the grip was weak and he shook it away easily.

He leaned against the door he had slammed shut and breathed heavily. Spidey, which he almost tripped over on his way to her house that terrible night, was still where he kicked it. His room was messier because he had no time to clean it up. He stared at his collection of Star Wars, GI Joe and Marvel Heroes figurines on the shelves above his bed and his treasured set of comic books and sports magazines collecting dust in his bookshelf. For the life of him, he could not remember anything beyond that trip to the clinic. His mother was still shouting at him from the outside to face the music and his brother was speaking calmly to reason with her. Wasn't he facing the consequences the right way he knew he should? Weakened knees crumbled under him and he sobbed silently. He was doing his best.

Boys cry. Men don't. He blinked away the tears and wiped at his nose with a sleeve. As time passed, so the voices ghosted away. The lights went out. Tomorrow would be another day.

She called him in the middle of the night. She did not want to give their baby up for adoption. They had decided to keep it out of love and responsibility. She kept crying and his thoughts kept swirling around him, strangling him. After he put down the phone with whispered words of love, he pulled out his haversack from the top shelf of his wardrobe. It was seasoned from frequent trips of backpacking which he had excitedly gone on with his friends ever since he was barely fifteen. That was two-years ago- that was an eternity away.

His brother opened the door on the side of his room of their adjoined bathroom to see him stuffing clothes hurriedly into the hardy backpack. There was no judgment in those enigmatic deep brown eyes which he could always borrowed strength and hope from. Whatever clothes he packed into the bag, his brother pulled out.

"Don't do this, Frank. I made up my mind."

"Where are you going to? How are you going to provide for your family? There's high school you've yet to finish and college to start…"

"So the tracks derailed but it just means that I'm heading off to a new destination- the best one given the situation…" his voice withered off and he bit down on his lower lips. "Her name's Hallie."

His brother grew quiet and it seemed like time had ceased ticking. Finally, he nodded. "Let me guess, Vegas?"

"Yah. I was thinking of that. I don't know. We aren't even eighteen yet."

"Talk to mom and dad again... they are angry but it doesn't mean they will be angry forever… most likely, they are angry at themselves… not you…"

"Angry at themselves?" He sputtered mockingly. "They don't have to _give_ themselves _credit_ for what I did. Didn't you hear what they said? Didn't you hear what Andrea said? Mom's all ready to disown me in the kitchen and dad… dad is always so afraid I'll screw up my life now he thinks I did! In his eyes I did but I'm trying to make amends! Frank…" His voice took a desperate plea. 

"I've made up my mind… I love her. She loves me. We have a lovely girl called Hallie on the way to greet the world. We are going to be fine. We cannot lose Hallie…"

His brother sighed in capitulation, knowing how stubborn he was. Slowly, the leanly muscled brown-haired young man got up and helped him pack. In the darkness again, almost like a replication of that fateful night, his brother drove him to her house but they stopped by Downtown Square on the way. He wondered what his brother was planning but before thoughts could turn into paranoia, Frank returned, shut the van's door tightly and passed him a wad of cash.

"You'll need this; don't reject it for I'll only toss it into the dustbin. There are bills to pay, diapers, rent, food, doctor's fees, milk powder…" Frank's voice droned on but he could hear the concern and heartbreaking farewell behind the monotonous speech.

He burst into tears, hiding his vulnerability behind frozen palms. The knowledge that he was really a child still came crashing down on him- how matured could he be? He had tried to squeeze Spidey into his bursting backpack and in the end, after grueling, futile efforts, shoved it into the roomy side pocket of his cargo pants instead.

But he never regretted his decision. Yes, there were much to pay but his heart was at peace. He did the right thing.

"Don't be gone too long… mom and dad will forgive you soon enough if they hadn't done so already. I don't know if you're doing the right thing by running away now but you know I'll always be here when you need me. Take care of yourself kiddo… no… you're not a kid anymore… you must grow up now and…" Frank's rambles died away into a choking cough. Joe did not know how to response through all the saline tears that was now streaming down his cheeks openly.

Frank breathed in deeply before he lifted the wooden cross he wore around his neck always off his head. Facing him, his brother put it around his neck.

"Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon, brother. And…" Frank reached inside his breast pocket and took out a neatly folded piece of paper. "Printed this out before we left. It's a map that will take you to Vegas via the most direct route. Remember, the Internet has plenty of resources for things like that. Ask people too if you get lost. Don't let your pride unwittingly bring you to Nebraska." Frank patted his shoulders and tried to smile but failed. He pulled Joe into a fierce embrace and Joe knew it was going to be a long time before he would hear Frank nag at him again. He already missed his brother very much.

"Here, brat… we're going to be late." Frank thumped his back reassuringly. "Have to make a move now. She's waiting for you."

He pulled away and smiled grimly. "Yah. Vegas."

"Vegas." Frank chuckled lowly before choking back on his silent tears. "Write, call, email… the storm will pass. Come home soon… I want to drive this van again."

"I will." Joe promised, carving the words into his heart. He felt Spidey against his thigh and then, with a resolved sigh, took it out from his pocket and handed it to Frank. "Keep it for me. I will come back for it."

"You better." Frank took it and ruffled his blond hair. "You better."

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly..._

Lyrics from Brick in the album Whatever and ever, amen, Ben Folds Five


	2. Chapter 1 Unexpected Guest

_"Hi… Frank…" Vanessa stood outside the door carrying a beautiful girl no more than two years of age with the brightest pair of wide sapphire eyes that Frank had only seen in two people before. Without doubt, he knew he was looking into the inquisitive eyes of his niece._

_He lost his heart immediately to Hallie- she looked like both her father and mother and yet, nothing like them. She had Joe's eyes and hair, Vanessa's gorgeous lips and her skin was the healthy color of peaches and cream. Vanessa smiled blissfully at the struggling girl in her arms. Gently, she set her down and without any reserve, Hallie squeezed past Frank and popped her head into his apartment to take a peek._

_"Vanessa… where's Joe? Come in… please…"_

_And she entered his apartment with Hallie who had returned to her mother's side and was pulling on her mother's jeans as she trotted a step behind. Frank guided them to his living room which was a minimalist's dream with only a long white couch and a large- screen television. Vanessa sat down on the sleek couch before hoisting Hallie onto her lap._

_"She's Hallie?" Frank smiled widely at the little girl who was now scrutinizing him piercingly. Soon, satisfied that he did not look funny most probably, Hallie set him very at ease with a big, charming grin baring a full set of small little white milk teeth._

_"C'mon, tell Uncle Frank your name? He's your daddy's brother." Vanessa cajoled her daughter lovingly and playfully shaking Hallie's slightly chubby upper arms. "Be a good girl…"_

_"Hallie!" The little girl obviously needed no such encouragement. When she was assured by her mother that Frank was a good man, Hallie dropped the rest of the little defenses she had and proudly proclaimed her own name. Frank laughed softly and reached over to ruffle her hair._

_It was so soft. He was addicted to stroking its silkiness._

_"Hallie… I see… how are you, Little Lady?" He wasn't expecting a two year old to answer back in complete sentences but Hallie did without any halts._

_"I am happy but mommy and daddy Greg won't buy me ice-cream." _

_And neither was he expecting a two year old to get her father's name wrong. Vanessa threw him an uncomfortable smile before placing a slender finger on Hallie's lips. Hallie shook her head and jumped off her mother's knees. She trotted over to Frank and the cute squeaking sounds her shoes made only emphasized her innocence. Frank reached down and sat her on his lap._

_"Yes, Hallie?"_

_"I wanna eat ice-cream. Do you have some?" _

_"Hallie..." Vanessa chided her daughter. "I taught you to not be rude…"_

_"Me no rude! Me asked nicely…" Hallie retorted before biting down on her lower lip, an action she learned from her father most probably. Bambi eyes gazed into Frank's again as Hallie whispered softly. "Please?"_

_Frank laughed albeit a little preoccupied by the name, Greg, which Hallie had spouted. It was then the door opened. Callie, who had a spare key to his apartment, always had the knack for choosing the most appropriate time to make her entrance._

_"Frank, you must listen to this… oh… Vanessa! __NESS__!" Callie squealed with happiness and dashed over to her long-lost friend side. Vanessa smiled widely and, with shining eyes, stood up to hug Callie fiercely. Callie pulled away and jumped in place a couple of times, giving Vanessa an approving once over, hardly able to contain her jubilant. They used to be best friends and Frank was sure that Callie's phone would be smoking tonight if Callie could not convince Vanessa to board with her._

_If he wanted to talk to Callie tonight, he would have to make an appointment quick._

_"__NESS__!!!! Look at you!!! That's a gorgeous bag… Where's Joe?" She glanced around the room before resting her sight on the curious girl on his lap. " And that must be little Hallie! Isn't she adorable… Frank… she has Joe's eyes…" Callie hunched over and pinched Hallie's rosy cheeks rather enthusiastically. Rather than being annoyed, Hallie was enjoying the attention and compliments very much. Vanessa tucked a lock of hair behind her left ear while Frank passed Hallie to Callie's adoring administrations. _

_"I wanna ice-cream… no one give me any." Hallie was already finding it so easy to complain to her worshiping auntie. Callie bounced Hallie up and down in her arms as she turned around briefly and wrinkled her nose at Frank. He caught her silent message and smiled a little sadly. _

_Yes. She's exactly like her father._

__

_"I'll give you some ice-cream…"Callie carried Hallie into the kitchen. "By the way, I'm your aunty Callie..."_

_"Ice-cream!" Hallie shrieked happily. "Aunty Callie, you're very pretty." Callie laughed heartily at the flattering. When the happy chatters dissipated into the kitchen, Frank motioned for Vanessa to sit again. There was so much she needed to explain._

_"I know. You're going to ask me where's Joe and who's Greg."_

_"Yes." Frank nodded. "Where's my brother? Why didn't he come home with you? It's almost three years already, damn it! All we get are the occasional phone calls, emails and letters with no return addresses and now, they have become as rare as dodo sightings!"_

_"Joe and I divorced when Hallie's a year and 2 months old. Eight months later, I applied for an annulment because Greg's a Catholic and…" Vanessa pulled her lips thin tightly as she gazed onto the floor with downcast eyes. "Greg's an Economics Professor at UCLA- he's actually the renowned young economist, Gregory Bunhill. We are getting married soon and… before I go over to __California__ for good I… I thought I'll just bring Hallie here."_

_Frank knitted his brows. "Joe will just let you take Hallie away with who this Greg is?"_

_"I won custody but he can see Hallie anytime… he loves Hallie to death…"_

_"Is he staying anywhere near __California__? Where is he?" Frank pressured her. "Do you even know?"_

_"We were in __Maryland__ all along. Went there instead of Vegas to get married because Joe checked out the laws and realized __Maryland__ is one of the few states that will allow minors like us who are with child to marry without parental consent.  I think he should still be there. We're not exactly speaking to each other…though he calls me when he wants to see Hallie." Vanessa cringed in her seat as Frank shook his head._

_"What happened between the both of you? You two left to get married and have your baby. We thought you'll come back soon. And now, after all the efforts both of you put in to keep Hallie with you, after all the hearts you've broken in your trail…"_

_"Joe didn't want to come back, Frank. Not me. We have… irreconcilable differences…"_

_"What differences?"_

_"Please, Frank… don't force me to say things that you may not be ready to hear." Vanessa stood up abruptly. "I have been to your parents place beforehand… Greg's coming to fetch me now and Laura asked me to let Hallie to stay with her and Fenton for a week which I agreed."_

_Frank sank back into his seat. "Just tell me, is Joe ok? He keeps saying he is when he does call and now you bring this news…"_

_Vanessa smiled sadly before nodding. "Yes. He's on his way to being ok and I know he will be. Joe… Joe has grown up quickly in a very short time."_

_Frank could only clench his fists in frustration that he was not getting the whole truth about his vagrant brother. Vanessa decided that it was best to leave him alone and went into the kitchen to say her goodbyes to Callie and Hallie._

_That week with irrepressible Hallie brought much deserved laughter and joy to the Hardys household. Everyone fell in love with her and through her, everyone missed her father more. Hallie talked about Joe all the time too, referring to Joe as daddy and Greg as daddy Greg. Never once did she mix up their identities. When Vanessa picked her up, she asked her mother if they were going back to "daddy." Vanessa's fleeting look of anguish told Frank much._

_And yet, nothing at all._

***

"Buddy you're an old man poor man. Pleadin' with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day. You got mud on your face. Big disgrace. Somebody betta put you back into your place." Tony finished the verse, slammed his hands down on the car boot and pointed at Chet and Frank.

"WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU! ROCK YOU!" Chet and Frank yelled the chorus at the top of their lungs with almost bloodthirsty lust while Tony beat the rhythm on the soapy car boot.

"Sing it!" 

"WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU! ROCK YOU!"

"EVERYBODY!"

"WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU! ROCK YOU!"

"SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Callie screeched, covering her ears. "It's enough! We've been washing this car for ages and it's not done! NOT DONE! And you guys know why? Because you guys kept singing and yelling; doing anything but work!!!!"

"Now… she's the one shouting…" Chet nudged Frank's side. "I wonder how you put up with her…"

"I'm just a henpecked little fiancé." Frank winked at Chet while he plastered his totally drenched body- a result from hosing down the suds off the car earlier, a task which escalated into a full fledge water fight- onto Callie's. She was naturally peeved because she was driest of them all.

"ARGH! I had it! No more car washes for me. Boys!" Callie pushed him away and stormed inside the house. Tony raised a sympathetic brow while Chet could hardly control his guffaws as he imitated Callie's indignant gait. He paced around the driveway, stalking in a circle while throwing his hands up in the air at intermittence lamenting, "Boys!" in a mocking falsetto. Frank laughed with gusto but had to dash inside to mollify his fuming fiancée after he caught Callie staring out of the window to find the guys making fun of her tirade.

"C'mon, Callie… you know I love you…" Frank slipped his arms around her waist and rocked her side to side gently. "Don't be angry... we're just fooling around…"

"Fooling around. Right. I have the meeting tonight and I need to fetch my boss in your Lexus that's supposed to be gleaming by now!! It's already two p.m. and we haven't even waxed it!" Callie hissed sharply. "You guys said you'll help… I should have sent it to the car wash instead of allowing you three to use it as an excuse for male bonding. Why don't you male bond over a couple of cans of beer while you belch and curse at some stupid football thingy on television?"

"Yes Mam!" Frank let go of her and jumped back a step in a mock salute. "I shall go relay the message to my platoon. We are going to drink beer, get fat and be couch potatoes!"

Callie tried to sulk but failed as an uncontainable smile crept up the sides of her rosebud lips. She pretended to ignore him, turning away to peer out of the window. Tony and Chet grinned at her from the outside and she pretended to scowl at them. Feigning extreme fear, Chet and Tony hurriedly wiped the car dry for its waxing.

"Let's go join them, shall we? I promise to sing Norah Jones only from now on." Frank cuddled her close to him and she nodded, relenting.

"Boys never grow up. You guys are just like who you were in high school." Callie groused. "Never taking anything seriously."

"I take you seriously. We take you seriously! See, Tony's starting on the wax now… _Come away with me on the bus… come away with me where they can't tempt us… with their lies… I want to walk with you… on a cloudy day…_"  Frank croaked her favorite song to coax her sweet smile fully out from hiding. It worked and they made their way out of the front door a loving couple again. He knew she was feeling stressed up over the meeting which she hoped would land her the position of Creative Director in the advertising firm she had been slogging in for two years. But her boss was a female hater who would rather promote a male paper-pusher than her. If she did not like the company so much, Callie would have split long ago.

Together, the four friends had a great deal of fun teasing Callie and waxing Frank's Lexus which would be vital for Callie's image later because her humbug boss had a liking for Lexus and Callie was hoping to make an impact on him with that.

Frank remembered telling Callie to never grovel for a position but Callie shot back and said it was a _coveted position. If she could just get his essential recommendation, she would be promoted and effectively, he would not be her immediate boss anymore and she would be rid of him forever. Frank shook his head at her logic. He hated being under anyone's employment, even his dad's. After he graduated with top honors in Criminology; he forged ahead and obtained his PI License. He did not want to join his dad at first and Fenton knew the reason. Fenton had a discussion with him and gave him an offer he could not resist._

Frank would be a partner instead of his subordinate. He would never order Frank around and Frank could pick and choose the cases he wanted and they would be on equal standing in their little establishment. Besides, Fenton was looking to retire already. That was a few years back. Now, at the mere age of twenty-five, Frank's reputation preceded him especially after he solved a case which the police dubbed "A Perfect Crime" all alone. To him, it was pure luck. To the police and especially Chief Collig, it was a stroke of genius they begrudged.

Alone. That was how he worked. He would back Fenton up all the time but for his own cases, he rather worked alone. He only had one partner and the last he heard of that brat was a few months ago. Joe called home to tell them that he was fine. What else did Joe said? Nothing. Joe asked a lot about them though and Frank thought he caught his kid brother sighing with some regrets.

_"You can always visit us. It's close to seven years. Surely you don't want to hide from us forever."_

_"I'm not. I… I called mom a week ago."_

_"And made her the happiest person in the world. Joe, come home. You said before you needed to straighten yourself out and that was when? A few years back? If you have any problems, why not come to us and let us help you sort it through?"_

_"Because it's something I need to do for myself… don't worry, bro. I'm coming back sooner than you can spell ahmm… hmm… you spell very well… AH HAH! Sooner than you can spell Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"_

_"S-U-P-E-R-C-A-L-I-F-R-A-G-I-L-I-S-T-I-C-E-X-P-I-A-L-I-D-O-C-I-O-U-S. You're not here yet!"_

_"I got to go. I have something to do… and… congratulations on that case you cracked! Am proud of you!"_

_"Don't humor me, Joe."_

_"I'm not. I visit Bayport's website on the Internet very often and printed out that article. You told me the Internet's good for much resources."_

_"I also told you I want to drive the black van again."_

_"Oh… right. Black van… you know something really funny? Well… you don't… of course. Okies! Got to go! I'm going down to __California__ next week so I won't be calling soon… going to see my baby Hallie! She's so pretty now…"_

_"I'm sure she is."_

_"Bye bro and… and send my regards to mom and dad."_

_"You'll have to send them yourself." Frank muttered into mouthpiece to a ringing tone._

"Well, Callie! I guess we'll be celebrating your promotion tomorrow night after your fantastic presentation!" Chet draped an arm across Callie's shoulders and Callie playfully punched his side.

"Oh… come on! You haven't even seen my project… don't curry favor with me, Chet. I know all you want is a free dinner."

"It's been a long time since we had dinner as a gang together. If Phil and Biff were here… and Joe… well, we'll be complete." Chet exuberated tone abruptly rolled off into a somber cadence as he eyed Frank cautiously. Frank understood perfectly- they always felt that any mention of Joe was like a ton of bricks hovering over Frank, ready to tumble down and crush his spirits.

Frank shrugged it off. Yes, he would always feel a prick in his heart at the mention of Joe, no denying that. He turned down recommendations to FBI. Gray Man had sought him out to dangle an exciting, fulfilling and life-threatening career in the Network in front of him with the promise of a huge paycheck and he refused right into Gray's face though he was, in a way, tempted. He knew the reason why he stayed- he had no idea where Joe was and if he should leave, he wondered if Joe would know where to find him. So he would stay and wait for his partner to return.

But he was getting rather sick of waiting, holding on to Joe's empty promises to return. With each broken vows, Frank would lose a little more faith. Bayport was beginning to seem stifling and if Callie was indeed promoted, she would be posted to Manhattan. The metropolis, with its the hectic, breathless lifestyle, was actually starting to look very good.

_Besides, I can always ask mom and dad to relay to Joe where I am. Why should I stay?_

_Because Frank Hardy…you know he's coming back. Each promise he made, though broken, sounded more resolute than the last. You have to have faith in that._

"I'll go reserve a table at 'Fridays'. Four of us." Tony offered.

"I can't wait to sink my teeth into a hunk of their juicy steak…" Chet smacked his lips. "Food! Glorious Food!"

"Why not make it five?" A familiar, husky voice called out- sounding still as young and yet, much wiser and rougher. "Why not make it now? I'm famished!"

Frank spun around a nanosecond before the rest of them. He saw Joe standing there, grinning lazily back at all them before half-shrugging. Callie screamed first and raced over to hug him. They all did, well, except for Frank, and almost suffocated a taken aback Joe with their affection. Joe actually had the wind knocked out of him from Chet's overly excited friendly punch to his stomach.

He could not believe his eyes. There his brother was- a little slimmer, a little wilder looking but still, there. Joe embraced his friends before he squeezed past them and strode over to Frank who was immobilized onto where he was standing, holding on to the cloth which he was waxing the car with. The sunlight glinted off Joe's short blond hair done up in spikes and scintillated off the two earrings on his left ear. His jeans were strategically torn and his orange t-shirt angrily proclaimed, "We are Poisoned!" 

But at least, despite his rebel image which Frank always knew was lurking somewhere inside, he was still wearing the wooden cross Frank gave him.

"Yo, bro! Finally! I can't take your nagging and returned! Aren't you happy to see me?" Joe clapped a hand heavily on Frank's shoulder and the grin melted down into an apologetic smile.

Letting out a low chuckle, Frank embraced his brother tightly as he had done when they said farewell seven years ago. 

"Glad to see you too, little bro."

*****

*We Will Rock You by Queen, Greatest Hits I and II.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Joe plopped down on the couch after the short drive from Callie's house to Frank's swanky condominium in downtown Bayport. Frank shook his head at his brother who was exhausted after a long drive back home. Nothing was said on the way to his condominium about Joe's solo life for almost seven years- in fact, if anything, Joe behaved like he was only gone for a week. They joked around like before, talked about movies they had seen. When they drove through the bustling downtown area that had definitely expanded since Joe's departure, Joe yawned.

Adjourning to the kitchen, he stuck his head out briefly to ask Joe if he would want anything to drink.

"Milk? Soda? Water? Beer?" 

"Water." Joe answered back lethargically. "I'm thirsty, hungry and sleepy."

"Nothing's changed." Frank mumbled as he poured Joe a glass of ice-cold water and took out a can of Coke for himself. When he returned back to the living room, Joe was already half slumped on the black sofa with his eyes closed and the side of his blond head resting on the armrest. Frank placed the glass onto the transparent coffee table, hovered over his brother and shook his shoulder.

"Hey! Wake up…"

"Yah… yah…" Joe struggled up with great efforts as he waved Frank away. He blurrily looked around before smiling at the glass that Frank brought out for him. Taking it, he took a long drink as Frank sat down next to him and pulled open the tab off the Coke can.

"Ah…" Joe threw his head back on the couch and sighed contentedly. "You'll think I spent forty days in the desert."

"Nope. I will _know_ you spent seven years away from home." Frank griped. "Where have you been? You were always evasive when we talked on the phone."

"Got a divorce then annulment. Fell into depression and out of it. Next, I finished high school, left Maryland and put myself through a community college in Chicago, got a degree in Criminology like you did, _with_ honors but second upper, not first class and set up a private investigating firm with a neat freak who's more psychotic about germs and dust than you. I guess your calling never changes no matter where you are. In between, I make sure I visit California very often to remind my daughter of my existence." Joe arched a cynical brow at his own accounting and smiled bitterly. "But now I'm back… came for my old partner." Making eye contact with Frank, Joe raised his glass in a mock toast and finished up his water.

Frank poured some of his coke into Joe's empty glass. "Depression? You never told us."

"Depression is a good word to mask through various issues." Joe replied off-handedly. "It's all in the past though. I'm all right now. Told ya I needed to straighten myself out. Now that I've done so, I think I can face mom and dad again… you know. You have a nice place… much nicer than mine. It's nothing like the old apartment you rented when you're in college. I can't believe you were so proud of that hole that you had to take so many photos of it and email to me, exploding my whole inbox." Joe looked around approvingly. "Mine had been _uglified."_

"I resent that! It was my first apartment, and, in my eyes, the best. Let's _talk_ about _you. PI firm, college. You know, Joe, dad and mom miss you a lot. With Andrea breathing down his neck and mom's tears keeping us awake at night, Dad was under a lot of pressure when you and Vanessa split. Made me feel guilty for being your accomplice. He turned down all the cases, even the very lucrative ones, and concentrated on seeking the both of you out until you called us two months later and even then he never gave up… Joe…"_

His kid brother raised a hand up to stop him. As he did so, his sleeve slipped behind and Frank noticed a tattoo peeking out. He nodded at it and Joe rolled up his right sleeve and there was the name, "Hallie", tattooed onto his forearm in Old English script. 

"The love of my life…" Joe smiled wryly. "I made a lot of mistakes but Hallie wasn't. She's the best thing that happened to me."

"I know… no one said otherwise. She's lovely beyond belief."

Joe nodded and the look of a proud father graced his sullen face, lighting up the shadows under his too-bright eyes instantly. "Yah. I know about how Vanessa sometimes left her with mom and dad for a week or two a year. I'll have to be extremely cautious when she grows up. Have to kill all the boys who want to get close to her." 

"I hope you're joking because if all fathers think like you, you would have died before you hit fifteen because as I recall, you fit the description of one of those boys that fathers would never let their daughters touch." Frank set the can down and Joe chuckled lowly.

"Of course I was kidding… but I'm going to have lay ground rules for her. No dating until she's eighteen. No mini-skirts ever. No bikinis too though tankinis will do… you know. I bought her a pepper spray…"

"Pepper spray for a six-year old girl? What if she sprays her own eyes?"

"We're living in dangerous time. Never too early to teach them to be cautious." Joe downed his coke. "You're still living on this stuff, huh? Caffeine overload?"

"Nope… don't change subject. You're the subject now. What's this about the PI firm? Why didn't you attend my graduation? Why didn't you tell us about yours? We will be so honored to attend, Joe."

"It's nothing… a community college in Chicago where I went to after she married Greg Bunnyhead or whaziname… nothing much really. And the cases that I and Elle took on were mere… ,well, petty crimes in companies mostly. Enough to pay the rent and feed ourselves. And I attended your graduation…" Joe bit down on his lower lip. Frank saw that familiar expression of guilt and knew that nothing really changed after all. "I just never… never stepped away from the tree I was hiding behind. You gave a great speech about justice and mercy and the importance of the crime investigators' role in seeking out the real guilty parties. I actually shed a few tears."

Frank put an arm around his brother and sighed. "Aren't you ever tired of running away?"

Joe let out a soft laughter and shook his head. At that very moment, the tough-guy demeanor vanished and Joe looked like someone who finally realized he was not so strong that he needed no one. "I am. That's why I'm back. I want to come home. Now… you'll have to break the news to mom and dad for me. I don't want them to die of heart attack."

Nodding, Frank noticed the pronounced shadows under Joe's eyes, most likely from the lack of sleep. His cheekbones were weathered sharp and defiant but his eyes were tired and jaded beyond his years. Feeling some pity for his kid brother, Frank understood that Joe needed rest now and not an interrogation though there were so much more he wanted to ask Joe. He wondered about Joe's PI firm and if Joe was coming home for good or for a brief sojourn.

Already an idea sprung into Frank's mind. Maybe he could partner up with Joe and the girl called Elle. They could build up a striving investigative firm and it would be he and his brother side by side again, busting criminals and righting the wrongs. "You can sleep in my room for now. I don't have a guest room as the bigger apartments here are too pricey for me. But you do have a room back at the Tudor house in Elm Street. You know that."

"Where's Spidey?" Joe asked suddenly, looking up on the mantelpiece which displayed nothing but photos of Joe, Callie, Fenton, Laura and him. "Have you discarded it?"

"Nope. It's in a safe hidden away in a nuclear holocaust hide-out twenty feet underground." Frank rolled his eyes. Trust Joe to still be able to remember his favorite toy.

"C'mon, tell me. I missed it so much… they don't sell figurines like that one anymore… so detailed and expertly painted by me." Joe stood up and, as usual, without asking for directions, threw open the door to the room that he assumed was Frank's. "Whoah! Bro! Weapons of Mass Destruction! You practice your martial arts in here? Hey! Nice punching bag! Hmm…your guitar looks out of place … why not we dump everything here somewhere so I can move in with you for a while?" Joe's kidding voice drifted softer as he explored further into Frank's training room. Frank walked over and leaned against the door frame as he watched Joe picked up the guitar, sat down on the stool next to it and started plucking the strings, singing softly to himself.
    
    "When I was young I knew everything, and she a punk who rarely ever took advice, now I'm guilt stricken, sobbing with my head on the floor, stop a baby's breath and a shoe full of rice… can't be held responsible…"
    
    "Cause she was touching her face…" Frank joined in softly, strolling over and then sitting down cross-legged on the floor next to his brother as they hum along to one of the few songs they could agree on before. It felt like a trip down memory lane as he and Joe often jammed together when they were teens as they good-humoredly insulted each other's vocals and favorite songs. At that very instant, it seemed as if the seven years absence was bridged and Joe had never left them at all. "I won't be held responsible… she fell in love in the first place…"
    
    "For the life of me… I cannot remember, what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise. For the life of me… I cannot believe… we'd ever die for these sins…we were merely freshmen..." Joe set the guitar aside and turned away. Frank caught him quickly wiping at his eyes.
    
    "I wished I had mom and dad with me… give me some idea of what to do…  how… how a couple should respect and support each other. Now the vagrant son returns… with nothing under his belt. No wife, no daughter. Nothing."
    
    "Spidey's in your room. Mom cleaned the pigsty up after you left and never threw away anything. She's waiting for you… as we all are."
    
    Joe smiled grimly. "How come you never ask me how I know you're at Callie's?"
    
    "Slipped my mind. So, Watson, how did you guess?" Frank cocked his head and arched his brows. Joe's body bobbed slightly along to the rhythm of the song still playing in his mind.
    
    "I called you but you're not here. Then I plucked up some courage and called home. Dad picked up the phone and I asked for you… pretending to be Phil but he saw, or rather, heard, through me. Told me you're here and we talked for a while. They don't know I'm back yet."
    
    "You want to go back now? Or do you want to sleep?"
    
    "I want to sleep in _my room. Not yours." Joe grinned and stood up, stretching himself. "Your apartment's all fine and dandy but I'll only mess it up. I might as well mess up my own room."_
    
    Frank's eyes crinkled up with quiet joy. "I'll drive. I can't believe you left the black van behind in Chicago."
    
    "I can't believe it too." Joe's eyes were downcast. "I guess there are some things we just have to leave behind to trudge ahead."

*****

[Song that Joe and Frank sung together- Freshmen by The Verve Pipe in their album, Villians. It can be listened to, with an interview in the beginning, at .Real audio player needed.]


	4. Chpater 3 And the Nightmare

Chapter Three Edited

Homecoming

Itsmeocean@hotmail.com
    
    Joe gazed out of his side of the window of his black Land Rover which was smeared with the dirt, mud and grime of the long drive back. They were in his driveway and on his side, he could see right past the Tudor-styled house into the backyard where the swing swayed minutely to the sluggish rhythm of the hot summer's occasional breeze. Frank pulled up and patted his shoulder.
    
    "Back home." 
    
    "Yah…" Joe bit his lip, an action that he longed wanted to quit ever since Elle teased him about it, telling him that it made him looked juvenile. He wondered then what Elle was doing- probably hailing curses upon his blond spikes for splitting so suddenly with their firm's Land Rover.
    
    _She should have known better than to do what she did._
    
    The front door opened and Laura Hardy stepped out to check who was in the foreign vehicle that just parked in her driveway. No, his mother did not change much too. She still had that shrewd, feisty air about her and her blond hair, though shorter, was still straight and trendily cut into a bob. Her penchant for loose blouses and tapered jeans to lounge around at home never diminished with time as well. Joe's eyes stung with precious saline as he agonizingly remembered the awful power behind the last few words he exchanged with her before he packed his bag and left.
    
    Frank stepped out of the vehicle first and from his tinted window, Joe could see his mom peering into the Land Rover warily to see who the passenger was. 
    
    "New car, Frank? Your Lexus' barely a year old. I know you're earning much and going places but you need to learn to be thrifty if you want to make Callie's dream wedding come true. Not to mention getting for yourself a bigger apartment… yours could never house a fam…"
    
    "I know mom…" Frank leaned over and kissed Laura once on each cheek. Joe remembered doing that too in his youth- the embraces, those times when he would loiter in the kitchen pretending to help his mother when what he was really after were her words of wisdom- they revisited his memories, wrung more tears from his heart to his eyes. "It's not mine and besides, you know I have always been prudent. It belongs to someone very special…"
    
    Laura raised a questioning brow up at her son who towered over her at six feet one before an understanding dawned onto to her. Her hand flew to her lips as she hastily walked over to the vehicle. Before she could reach it though, Joe pushed open his door and stepped out. He took off his shades and smiled shakily at his mother while shuffling his feet awkwardly.
    
    His mother slowed her steps as if she was walking in a dream and her eyes- just like his- rounded in disbelief. Words of apology which he had been rehearsing for years failed him then- language reduced to incoherent babbles when he tried to greet her. When she was right in front of him, he forgotten how to breathe. His thoughts were in a swirl and his heart twisted achingly when he saw the deepened crowfeet at the sides of her eyes and unfamiliar creases on her forehead. No, he was wrong. She was not the same any more; she had grown older and sadder. He knew, with a sinking stomach, that he was the cause much more than the sands of time.
    
    She caressed his cheeks- her hands still tender and soft. "Joe… baby…"
    
    He reached up and took her hands into his before kissing them. "Mom, I'm sorry. Forgive me, please…" That was all he could manage before the suppressed tears found their way out of his blue orbs.
    
    Laura embraced him lovingly, tiptoeing up to kiss him on his cheek. "Silly boy, there never was anything to forgive."
    
    *****

"So, what have you been up to all these years?" Fenton sat down on Joe's bed. Laura had happily put on a new bed spread for him when he was in the kitchen having milk and cookies with his father and brother. He had thought there would be long spells of silence but the bonds between them were too strong even for time to dilute much away. When his father had said nothing for a moment upon seeing him, he thought that was it- that today was going to be the last day of his life.

_"Darling?!__ Darling! Our baby's back! He's back!" Laura raced into the basement den to drag his father up. As Fenton climbed up the stairs to the living room, he gave Joe's punk image a once over and frowned._

_"Dad…" Joe uneasily greeted the man he had always been in awe of- the one person that he wanted to measure up to and never thought he could. Fenton now stood before him, his arms akimbo as his beaming wife nudged him not too subtly to show his son some affection._

_"When you called in the morning, were you already in Bayport?" _

_Joe stumbled for an answer but before he could open his mouth, Fenton waved him off. "Forget about answering. You **were** in Bayport- downtown to be exact. When we were speaking, I heard the giant cuckoo clock in town square crowing noontime."_

_"Ah… yes, sir,… I…"_

_"Seven years." Fenton stated blandly._

_Even Frank bristled next to him. He knocked his big brother's knee with his- Joe could really use some support and strength now._

_"Six years eleven months and twelve days to be exact." Joe corrected Fenton, not knowing why his motor-mouth would want to risk his father's wrath. Frank elbowed him and, from the corner of his eyes, glanced at him like he was a madman who no longer valued his life.. Even Laura Hardy knitted her brows in anxiousness, shaking her head at him violently as she did so._

_"And that's supposed to make us all feel better?" Fenton coldly replied. Joe wanted to kneel down then, grab his father's ankles and beg for him to spare his life when Fenton suddenly pulled him into a bear hug, laughing as he did so._

_"Welcome home, sonny. Welcome home! My golden boy is back after seven years!"_

_"Ah… six years eleven months and twe…"_

_"Do you want to die?" Fenton pulled away, glaring at Joe. Joe cringed, wondering if he had made his father quite mad with his antics._

_"Nope sir… too young to die…"_

_"Good. Food, Laura! We must celebrate the return of our prodigal son!" _

_"Dad's watching a lot of soap-operas and shows from the era of Benhur. He's having a middle-age crisis dream of becoming an actor like Charlton Heston. " Frank whispered in his ear. "He can be a little quirky at times but he will be back to his serious self soon."_

_"Should I tell him that 'prodigal' means 'spendthrift' and I didn't like go squander my inheritance away?"_

_Frank stroked his chin sagely. "Better not. Don't want to drive him over the edge."_

So, in seven years, his dad gained a sense of humor as well, probably able to see the lighter side to the mess Joe left behind. Whatever it was, Joe hoped Fenton could tell him the funny side to all these because he sure could not.

Basically, they were just making small talk as they sat around the table, reiterating cases they had solved. Joe felt extremely inadequate when Frank simply brushed away the case of the "Perfect Crime", which had stumped even the Feds, as nothing. 

However, his heart was put at ease when Fenton never pressured him for any details about his own life. He told them the funny situations he entangled Elle in mainly because he was messy and disorganized and she was annalistic about cleanliness. His parents sensed that he was not exactly ready to tell them of his failed marriage to Vanessa and let it go- for the moment. Vanessa, Joe had no idea still how he should feel towards her. Antagonistic?  Lost love? But whatever it was, no matter who was to be blamed more, he would always think of her at least as the mother of his angel.

Joe was now sitting up on his bed with the duvet covering his crossed legs. He was getting ready to take a nap when Fenton stepped in for a personal, heart-to-heart talk. His lids were heavy but he knew his father was concerned about him. Of course he should be, Laura as well. When parenthood came to Joe, he could finally comprehend the fearful nights he put them through- the magnitude of the anxieties he had inadvertently forced upon them- and felt even guiltier. However, he wished his dad could understand him enough to leave him alone to dreamland for the time being.

"I told you guys… Maryland then Chicago with California in between." Joe was evasive, knowing his father was really asking about something else.

"I don't mean where. I mean what and not just college and the PI firm which I'm extremely proud of you for achieving.  What happened between you and Ness?"

"Dad, I'm really sleepy…"

"You're gone for seven years and you're sleepy. Your mom let you off easy just now. But I'm not going to. You have a lot of explanation to do."

"Yes. I'm not a child anymore, dad. You know… statistics… these things happen." Joe gestured around vaguely before he stretched his lips into a thin, taut line. 

Fenton clasped his strong fingers together before cracking his knuckles and sighing. "I didn't want to bring this up just now with your mom around. You know how she is. I'm not an inept investigator and you're not that experienced in such ways as to outwit me with your constant moving. Before I say anything else… do you want to tell me anything? I won't judge you anymore, son. Like you said, these things happened and it is evident that you're wiser now. Much wiser."

"If you have found me many times… why didn't you just show up and drag me home?" Joe retorted. His keen intuition told him that his father had somehow dug out the nasty details of the divorce and after. 

"I didn't find out exactly where you were, that I'll give you. When I actually did, your address changed. I merely found out what happened… but not soon enough. How's therapy coming along?" Fenton voice softened and Joe's eyes were downcast- there was no use denying to those piercing eyes. 

"I didn't need it. I never hurt anyone."

"Vanessa was scared. She must have reasons to be afraid."

"Dad!" The ugly monster riding on his back reared its head but he controlled it and shoved it back where it belonged, away from him. "I know I was wrong and I am going for 'Anger Management Classes'. I'm all right. All ok now." Joe raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Fenton patted his knee reassuringly.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I did sound like I was jumping on you but that was never the intention. Seven years… my boy left home and returned a man."

"A man?" Joe laughed shortly and self-derisively. "Hardly."

"You admitted to your mistakes. Even if you won't tell us the details, I can see you're trying to make amends and learning to deal with your shortcomings. Marriage is a sticky thing… you were so young then and it's partly our fault too. We didn't stick up for you enough and support you when you needed us most."

"I always thought if you and mom had been there to guide us… maybe things would have worked out between me and Vanessa… at least it won't be so… _ugly_." Joe blew at his fringe. Now that he had taken a shower, the spikes were gone and his hair once again fell softly all over his forehead. He hated that- it made him appear much younger than he was.

"But you do know you'll always be my son and my child. Don't run away for seven years again. I'm not that young, Joe. If you do it again, you're going to return home to an old man with spit dribbling down the side of his lips, sitting indolently in his wheelchair while hitting out at punks who talk too loud with his cane." Fenton ruffled his hair and Joe chuckled at the image his father conjured up.

"Not to mention becoming overly dramatic at times. Probably going to spout the Ten Commandments like how Charlton Heston did." Joe kidded, still a little amused from his dad's initial reaction at seeing him.

"I'm just letting you know that I don't have many years left. Just like you hate being out of Hallie's life the way you were, I hate to be out of your life. _And I did miss a lot of important milestones that you've been through which I can never turn back time for to either congratulate you or offer you assistance." Fenton explained patiently to which Joe nodded silently._

"I'll leave you alone for now. If you ever want to talk about it, you can always come to me. We will be able to think of something." Fenton stood up. He looked at Joe with some unspoken concern before smiling grimly and left the room. Joe waited until his dad had shut the door to slink down onto the soft bed.

Before he closed his eyes though, he gazed up at the display shelf and saw that Frank had maneuvered the movable joints of Spidey in a crouching position with its head resting on a fist as if it was waiting for something or someone.

_Sorry to have kept you guys waiting._

_But I'm back, ain't I? _

***

"Vanessa… calm down. I'm sure Joe would not do that… why would he?" 

"No! I will not! He took my baby…" 

"Con…"

"Fenton, I have my orders. Joe fits into _motive. I have to bring him in for questioning."_

Joe woke up as the dialogues of reality streamed into the sub-consciousness of his dreams. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he struggled up and stretched himself, hearing his tired muscles scream. He thought he heard a voice which he never wanted to hear again unless it was absolutely necessary- hers.

"He took my baby… is Hallie here? She's here, right?"

"Ness… I know my son and Hallie's his baby too." Fenton reproached Vanessa sternly. "Besides, he traveled here on road from Chicago and just arrived this early afternoon. He did not go anywhere before he came here except Callie's house and Frank's condominium. Besides, Frank was with him the entire time… he couldn't have gone over to the Mall and took Hallie…"

_Hallie? Kidnapped? Hallie in Bayport? Damn you, __Ness__! You never tell me where you're bringing her to! Hallie… _

_Hallie!_

Joe scrambled out of bed and threw on a decent t-shirt. Racing down the stairs, he saw Vanessa, looking classy but disheveled, with Con Riley next to her in the small foyer, talking to Fenton who was standing with his arms akimbo. He slowed his steps and glared at Vanessa.

"What's this about Hallie being kidnapped? Why is she even here?"

"I brought her here to visit my mother. Took her to the mall where I met Tony who told me you've returned. I was going to bring Hallie to see you, out of kindness that you don't deserve when…"

"When you _lost _her, right?" Joe stormed over to her angrily but was held back by his father. "

"This is no time for anger, both of you. When did you discover Hallie lost?" Fenton asked Vanessa calmly. Vanessa glowered at Joe before inhaling in deeply for coherent speech despite her tears of a mother's fright and anxiety.

"About four hours ago. We were in the Bayport Mall and after Tony told me you were back, Hallie shrieked and yelled that she wanted to see you. I tried to… to placate her by bringing her to Toys'r'us but she wouldn't stop crying for you."

"Placate her? You didn't want her to see me in the first place! Where's this mysterious kindness that you were talking about?!"

"JOE!" Fenton laid a heavy, restraining hand on Joe. "Carry on, Vanessa."

Vanessa ignored Joe's smoldering eyes and spoke to Fenton. "There was a crowd in Toys'r'us because of some entertainment that was being staged and Hallie was distracted for a while by it. But you can tell she's not happy so I relented and was about to bring her over when suddenly, she broke away from me and ran into the crowd, shouting "Daddy! Daddy!" I thought you were there as well… but I lost sight of her and with the security guards, we kept searching for you and her. She was nowhere to be seen and so I made a police report. I heard her shout "Daddy." Why would she do that unless she saw you?"

"I was nowhere near Toys'r'us four hours ago! You're probably lying about what she was shouting! You can't wait to see me in jail, bi…"

"JOE! Back off! You're both not helping the situation by losing your tempers. Hadn't experiences taught you two enough?" Fenton reprimanded them with such forceful vehemence behind his measured tone that even Con Riley cringed. 

"Well, we just need Joe to go down and take some statements. That's all."

"Hell no! I'm going off." Joe was about to push past his father when once again, his father pulled him back by the shoulders with strength he did know his father had. "Dad, I got my daughter to bring home!"

"Go with Con. Vanessa heard what she heard. Vanessa, if you don't mind, come into the study with me and we'll go through some details. I'm calling Frank over. Con, do I have your word that the statement-taking will be fast?" Fenton wielded the clout he held over the police department of Bayport, having helped them in very valuable ways in many crucial investigations before.

"Yes, Fenton. Very fast. Your boy will be back in no time. Procedures, you know." Con Riley promised.

"DAD!" Joe yelled. "HALLIE'S MISSING!!!!  _And _I have to go down to the station? This is FREAKING CRAZY!!!!! If I'm not so angry about the _lies_ she's telling and scared out of my mind, I'll roll down on the floor and DIE LAUGHING!"

"Go, Joe." Fenton repeated softly. "The faster you get it over and done with, the sooner you can work on this. We'll get Hallie back safely. I promise you… son…"

_"Daddy! Daddy! Where are you? Daddy!!! Hallie's scared!"_

_"Sheesh… sweetheart… I'm here… I'm here…"_

_"I don't like hide and seek. Don't like! Don't wanna play this game, daddy." _

_"We won't play this game then. We'll go for ice-cream? Don't cry Hallie… daddy will never lose you… ok? Daddy loves you so much…"_

Joe inhaled and exhaled deeply. Hallie's childish laughter, the secret meetings they had, those wonderful hours with her just listening to her chatter on and on about the new things in life she learnt and afraid that Vanessa would find out about him seeing Hallie despite the court orders…

_"Promise me, daddy? And it's not Hallie who's lost. Hallie knows where she is! It's daddy who's lost. Daddy never lose himself again?"_

_"I promise you."_

_"I love you, daddy."_

He covered his mouth and blinked the tears away. Silently, he nodded and left with Con Riley, clenching his fists as he marched past Vanessa, his heart twisting with the rage of betrayed love, and anxiousness for the daughter who was his reason for being alive- who was really, his life.


	5. Chapter 4 Tempest

Chapter Four

Itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

_"Were you in Toy'r'us or anywhere else inside Bayport Mall or near when the crime occurred?" Con's raspy voice was becoming increasingly grating to his ears. Joe shook his head._

_"No."_

_"Alibis?"___

_"Haven't you heard my father? He said I was with Frank the entire time. And then I fell asleep at home until just then and missed my dinner. My dad and mom can testify to that. Can I go now?" _

_"Joe, you know we have to do this."_

_"You have nothing on me! When is being a loving father who wants to see his daughter a suspicious motive? Isn't that what fathers feel all the time if they love their children?" Joe jumped up angrily. Con promised it would be fast but Joe was trapped there for the longest time. With each passing minute, the chances of finding Hallie grew slimmer. Surely the police had to know!_

_Unless they thought it was really him._

_"Please co-operate… I…"_

_"You're just doing your job as a policeman but you're hampering me now from doing my job as a father- and that's to find my daughter!"_

***

Joe returned back to his parent's home after the police cleared him. He was nowhere Bayport Mall and had tons of alibis. With slouching shoulders, he dragged his tired feet from the Lexus to the door. Frank received a call from Fenton about Hallie's disappearance when he was at the airport with Chet, retrieving his Lexus which Callie had parked there after driving her boss from the neighboring town of Port City to Bayport's local airport.

Frank had gone to the station to fetch him and while he was grateful for the gesture, he could not find the energy to express his gratitude.

"Don't worry, all right? Hallie will be fine."

He nodded and waited for Frank to unlock the front door. He was about to doze off on his feet when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Rummaging for the phone, he wondered why he even bothered to answer it when it could only be that _one person who would call him._

"Hello."

"Joe Hardy. You have overstepped the line." Elle's curt, crispy voice greeted him in unfriendly staccatos. "You took my Land Rover…"

"_Our _Land Rover."

"All right. _Our_ Land Rover. Half of it is still mine."

"I'll mail your half to you tomorrow after I saw it in two."

"I will hold you to that. I want the side with the steering wheel." Elle shot back characteristically brusquely. Despite his troubles, Joe burst out laughing and Elle, infected by his laughter, cracked up as well but hers was more of a short, low chuckle. Frank arched his brows before shaking his head, probably knowing how crazy Joe could be and how his actions sometimes do not correspond to his emotions.

"Where are you, partner?" 

"In Bayport."

"I still can't believe that you split on me just because I cleaned up your apartment. It was positively breeding all sorts of destructive viruses inside and I explained- I was only looking for a file that _you misplaced."_

"I know… Elle… I can't go into this debate now. I… I have very urgent matters to look into." Joe waved Frank on. "I'm going to disconnect the call now, all right?"

"You sound funny. Don't say there's nothing wrong with you. Out with it. Have you been drinking again?"

"No… really… I…" Joe took a deep breath before he could translate the facts into spoken words. "My daughter's kidnapped. Seemed like her mother brought her back to Bayport to visit her grandmother. So you see, I really need to go. Bye." Joe disconnected the call and pushed open the front door. Frank was waiting for him at the foot of the redwood staircase and Laura immediately embraced him to try and soothe his anxiety. 

"Honey… your dad and brother are looking into it…"

"So am I, mom. I'm a PI too, remember?" Joe reminded her carelessly and pulled away from the hug that did nothing to smooth the frays. He turned to his brother. "What did my _ex-wife­ _say this time?"

"Joe…" Frank drawled. "I know you're anxious, so are we and Vanessa's freaking out. Hallie's part of her as much as Hallie's part you."

"Yah. Right. This is all her ploy to get me out of her life so she and Greg Bunnycrap can be all at ease keeping Hallie to themselves. No matter what she does, she won't be rid of me! I'm Hallie's dad! Not _daddy Greg!"_

"Why don't you tell them what you did, Joe?" Vanessa's quiet voice gave him quite a shock. He spun on his heels and saw her at the middle stairs landing, her ashen face almost the color of her ash blond hair. Fenton appeared behind her and laid a calming hand on her shoulders.

"Great! Now you have my father on your side too! Just dandy!"

"What did I say earlier on, Joe?" Fenton warned him.

"She shouted first! Witch! I won't be out of Hallie's life! Get that? Not over my dead body! Or maybe you're just dying to see my dead body in front of you!" 

"You're still the insecure, paranoid freak who thinks everyone's out to get you! Out to betray your trust!" Vanessa countered harshly. "Hallie's missing and even if it's not you, how can you think I _would_ rig up something like that to keep you away?"

"You were the one who got the damn restraining order! I had to see Hallie _supervised! How do you think I feel?!" Joe could feel his rage bubbling up his chest and his head about to explode. He threw his hands up in the air. "I didn't even do anything!"_

Laura and Frank could only stand there at the foyer, helplessly watching as the two of them exchanged verbal blows bitterly. The long-standing anger between Vanessa and him had only simmered hotter and hotter with each passing year and now, his family was feeling the terrible power that had crumbled down the walls of their relationship.

"Believe what you will, Joe. I'm sorry Fenton, Laura, that you have to witness this. It's my fault as much as his…" Vanessa calmed down first and turned around to face Fenton who appeared to be too sick of their tirades to interfere. "If you need anything, you know where to find me. Thanks for all your help… please… find Hallie…" Vanessa implored Fenton's whose softened brown eyes only told Joe that somehow, when he was in the police station, Vanessa had fed his father with all her lies and convinced him that their divorce was his entire fault. With as much dignity as she could, she climbed down the stairs and sauntered pass Joe out of the door. Joe, momentarily paralyzed by his anger, broke out of his trance and thundered towards the door. He threw it open and seethed at her retreating figure stepping into a black Porsche that must have just arrived because he did not notice it when Frank and he drove into the driveway.

"I didn't do anything to deserve that order! You took her away from me! You're the paranoid one! Hey! Don't ignore me! You're always ignoring me!!" Joe shouted until his voice was hoarse. Frank had to drag him kicking and red-faced away from the door before slamming it shut.

"What's that about? What restraining order?" Frank demanded. Joe pointed at the door vigorously.

"Ask her! I'm a menace and a danger to her and Hallie! I did nothing but love her the best I could! I did nothing but slog my ass off so she could have a normal life at least! I put her through high school and paid for all the bills! Now, when she's having a high-flying career and re-married to a wonderful, rich, distinguished husband, I'm suddenly a menace! ARGHH!" Joe pummeled his fist into the shoe cabinet and splintered the wood. Laura, who was about to calm him down before his final act of violence, backed away abruptly. Joe imagined a monster which represented his anger in front of him and as a grand finale, he imagined himself chewing off its head, swallowing it down, condemning it to corrode in his acidic bile.

_Or to become a part of me?___

"Joe…" Fenton's voice sternly perforated into his ears. "I want you to calm down now."

"I am calmed down." Joe scrounged his eyes. "I'm so sorry. But she gets to me all the time. All the time." He whispered. Feeling someone gently touching his shoulders, he turned around, grateful for the show of forgiveness. After such a long period of repressing, his tears finally spilled over, soaking his father's shirt.

"I screwed up. I'm sorry. That's why I came home because I have no where else to go. I know it's selfish of me but don't chase me out. Please don't chase me out."

"We won't. I said you're my son. Even if you have dozen children all grown up, even if you become a grandfather or a great-grandfather, you'll always be my son."

***

"Is he asleep?" Fenton peered at Frank from under his reading glasses. Whenever Fenton did that, Frank had the sinking revelation that his father was really getting older and one day, Fenton may not be there anymore behind his massive, mahogany desk listening to Frank groused about life in general. Close as Frank was to Joe, only Fenton had the wisdom and wiles to deal with situations like the tempest that entered their house just now- a tempest that let them all catch yet another glimpse into Joe's brief but definitely traumatic marriage to Vanessa. Now Frank understood the old adage, "Love's not everything."

_But at that time, that was the best they could do. They just did not have the guidance to see it through. They refused the guidance._

"Mom made him take a Valium. So, how's the case coming along?"

"You have anything right now in your portfolio?" Fenton asked, scrutinizing the notes he made from what Vanessa told him. 

"Nothing at all." Frank answered immediately, _neglecting to tell his dad about the case that a securities' firm had employed him for at high prices which he called to decline right after Fenton phoned to inform him about Hallie's disappearance._

"Good. I never have to worry about you." Fenton's crinkled eyes glinted with the old shrewdness. Frank smiled grimly in reply- so, his dad knew after all. "Here's what Vanessa told me. She and Hallie arrived in Bayport yesterday night and she did not inform anyone because it was only to be a short stay and she didn't want Hallie to grow too attach to us, like how Hallie did the previous times she brought Hallie over. I'm not feeling good about that but I can understand her dilemma. They stayed with Andrea and today, she brought Hallie to the mall to buy Hallie some story books."

"More story books? Those I sent over last Christmas' were not enough? Geez… I wonder where the little brat got the reading gene from." Frank suppressed the anxiety he had inside. Though Joe knew about Hallie's week-long stay with the Hardys each year, he did not comment on it. Before, Frank always had the wild hope that when Hallie was with Fenton and Laura, Joe would somehow learn of it and show his face. He had no doubt Fenton and Laura, who genuinely loved having Hallie around, felt the same way too. But it never happened and Frank did not want to offer any reasons for Joe. He was not Joe though he could guess that pride and the sense of being a failure had a lot to do with Joe prolonged stay away from home.

"Definitely not Joe." Fenton spoke dryly. "She bumped into Tony around four and knew about Joe's return…"

"Four… Tony must have left for the mall immediately after we finished waxing the car."

"At five, they went into Toys'r'us and that was when the show started. Vanessa felt guilty because Hallie was still crestfallen and when she wanted to bring Joe over, Hallie ran away from her into the crowd, shouting for her daddy."

"Daddy and not _daddy Greg_?"

"Yup. Daddy. Vanessa was sure. I asked her about it too. Besides, Greg's in the committee of an economics convention this weekend. There was no way he could tear himself from his duties though I think he came over to check on Vanessa." 

"He better or Vanessa would have chosen the wrong guy." Frank commented dryly. "Restraining order. Joe's harmless."

"He is. But the more often he loses that temper of his, the more things he will _lose. Vanessa felt scared and I want her to be wrong. Nonetheless, I have seen just now that she has every reason to be frightened although we can understand that Joe has his own issues which led to his mini-explosions. What can I say that I haven't said before? They were both too young..."_

"And what could they have done, dad?" Frank interjected. "They cannot abort the child! And how can they give it up after fighting so hard for it against their own fears and insecurities?"

"I know. Hallie's a blessing, despite all they have been through. They could have stayed, let our tempers melt. Andrea was just being protective of Vanessa- those were actions done in haste. She regretted it soon after. If they had gotten married here or if Joe could have swallowed his pride and come home once Vanessa had given birth, they could have benefited from our support."

"I'm sorry, dad. That night will forever remain like a splinter in the eye to my memories. You're saying all these because we have the perfect vision of hindsight. But we're not living the life. Joe is. Maybe there's more to it but I think…" Frank shook his head. "Who am I kidding? I am thinking the same things as you are. I don't know… I'm contradicting myself, huh?"

"Nope. You're just been open enough to be able to look at issues from many other angles though I feel you're too doting on your kid brother." Fenton wagged a cautionary finger at Frank. "Do not interfere with how I discipline my children."

Frank laughed lightly at the old joke between the both of them. Whenever Fenton punished Joe by grounding him before, Frank would sneak snacks and videogames up for his restless brother. And hence Fenton, as sharp as an eagle,  would always whack Frank on the head whenever he caught Frank in one of his clandestine operation and then let him off with that stern warning. When Frank realized that Fenton was disciplining Joe's wild, rebellious spirit for his own good, he stopped siding with his brother all the time unless he strongly felt that Fenton was wrong.

Which was almost never. Fenton, more than anything, was as fair a father as he was merciful.

"Don't get me wrong. I love Joe as much as I love you and no matter what, I will always stand by him but it's not the same as defending him all the time. I won't shield him with excuses when he's obviously in some wrong. Shielding Joe from his mistakes is not going to help him. He has an anger problem and he is dealing with it. Hallie's disappearance and Vanessa's sudden appearance must have pushed him over the edge again…"

"But he calmed down by himself." Frank pointed out.

"I was about to say that!" Fenton countered back. They chuckled lowly. Fenton readjusted his glasses and went back to the notes.

"There's no way Joe could have went to the mall- he was all zonked out at home. I was thinking- could it be someone who wanted to frame Joe? But from the cases that Joe said he solved with his partner, none seemed serious enough for the perpetrator to want to take revenge like this."

"Maybe Joe did not tell us everything?" Frank ventured, "As usual?"

Fenton exhaled heavily and the air was suddenly pregnant with the sense of helplessness. "I can't say. I…" He rubbed his graying temples. "It's always tougher when the case evolves around those that you hold dear. I'll give anything for Hallie to come back now."

Frank nodded and motioned over to the crib notes. "Dad, get some rest. I'll take over from here… for now."

"You're right. I'm exhausted. Take them, Frank, and see if you spot anything my failing eyes cannot. But don't tire yourself out as well. We're not helping Joe if we fall sick in the middle of this case."

"Roger, dad." He pocketed the crib notes and glanced at the clock. "It's still considered early for me. I'll see what I can do."

"The energy of youths..."

"Nope. It's called the magic of coffee." Frank grinned but it faded away as quickly as it showed when thoughts of little Hallie in danger caused the adrenaline that only fear could induce to course through his veins again.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

"So, what are we looking for? Why are you carrying so many things?" Tony gestured to the haversack where Frank kept the essential tools. He had splurged on those equipment and was very proud of them. However, he was in no mood to explain their individual usage.

"They may come in handy. I know what I'm doing."

"Of course. I didn't know being a PI can earn such big bucks in such a short time. If I did, I would have switch majors." Tony groused. "As it is, I'm stuck being the personal assistant to the freaking manager of this mall. He's earning big bucks, he's stealing my ideas and I'm not getting my share."

"Sounds like Callie's predicament to me. The two of you can trade sorry plights of the new proletariats with Marx." Frank mumbled. He switched on the lights to Toys'r'us and the magic of the wonderland of toys instantly revealed itself to him. It was a huge store, taking up the entire left wing of the mall at the top two levels. Aisles and aisles of toys and dolls- the stuff kids' dreams were made of-, beckoned him and if he was not on an urgent mission dear to his heart, he would have chase Tony away and bask in the company of all his favorite toys all alone- maybe do some role-playing with the figurines and not care if anyone laughed at his funny stories.

Was it only yesterday that they had been trapped in the mall while Philip Walker was running for mayor in the atrium? They were almost bombed to death but still, they survived. It was more than seven years ago but it felt like yesterday- the kick start to the brothers accepting their dangerous calling in life.

Frank made his way to the spacious event hall inside Toys'r'us itself. Hanging mobiles of various cartoon characters decorated the rounded compound. A small, revolving stage in the middle host the center of attention- Frank had brought Hallie once to Toys'r'us two years ago and she was enchanted by a talented storyteller who wove a spell over all the children who were unusually quiet with her low, velvety voice.

"The event was held here. Hallie ran off and vanished into the crowd but as we can see, the event hall is not so huge that she could not be found quickly. My guess is that she was absconded away from this giant store by someone who knows the mall quite well, or, has done studies to the mall, which is why Vanessa, trapped in the maze of aisles, could not find her."

"Don't look at me! Not me!" Tony raised his hands in surrender. "But I can show you around."

Frank smiled gratefully. I know you can. I got you to open up the mall for me, right?"

"Yah… I want to open up the mall in the middle of the night for Clarissa to shop in."

"And then dump her the day after." Frank joked. "Or be arrested by the police for burglary."

"Hey! I'll be paying for her merchandise and it's serious this time." Tony was indignant. "Never mind. You're right! I'll be a swinging bachelor until I'm forty." 

"You can't swing if your arms are laden by babes hanging on to them."

"Right… well… maybe the bachelor part then."

Frank glanced around, stroking his chin. "Tony, Toys'r'us is where the old Lacey was right? At least the top two stories?"

"Yah…" Tony dragged. "What are you getting at? Just tell me what you need me to do, I'm not much stacked in the brains department right now… at… let's see. One in the morning."

"Don't belittle yourself, dear friend. When Lacey occupied the left wing of the mall previously, it was very cut off from the mall, except for that connecting passageway on the third sub-basement that is often utilized by you for your own undercover operations. But when it went bust and these parts of the mall opened up for other stores, many renovations were done, including the demolition of Lacey's exclusive escalators, right? But the separate service steps and exits of Lacey still existed and Toys'r'us should be making full use of them. They are a very direct way out of the mall, without having to leave Toys'r'us to use the main escalators of the mall or the shared service steps."

"Yes… but only Toys'r'us people have the keys to their own doors… not even we, the main management of the mall, have them. But anyway, I know they are rarely used since we blocked the access of the steps to the basement and thus, it only leads to a back alley on the ground level. "

"That narrows down our suspects right?" Frank remarked wryly. "Bring me to the service steps entrance."

Tony shrugged and led Frank through winding aisles of toys. Frank was surprised at the indirect route that Tony had taken. "Isn't there a shorter way?"

"There may be but I'm not  familiar with toy shops you know. Ask me about lingerie, women's clothings etc… I'm not a toys person."

Frank chuckled while he mapped in his mind a blueprint of the area. Very close to the service stairs entrance were a series of interlinked L-shaped shelves. Frank walked over and saw that the L-shaped shelves tucked in that obscure corner displayed toys that had long passed their popularity. 

"The crowd's attention was hooked on what went on in the Event Hall. Hallie saw someone who looked like Joe beckoning her, leading her into this part. Then, making sure no one was around, he or she snuck into the safety behind the long side of this L-shaped shelf. Hallie ran passed and was grabbed. Quickly, all the kidnapper had to do was turn around, open up the service stairs entrance and make his escape. Easy as that."

"Sounds… ah… possible." Tony said. "So what do we do?"

"We see if my theory works out." Frank replied. From his bag, he took out a magnifying glass. Scrutinizing the entrance door knob with it, he did not see any faint scratched marks that could indicate the lock was picked. The kidnapper could either be an expert or had a set of keys to the service steps. Keeping the magnifying glass, he took out the fingerprint dusting kit and set to work.

"I don't think many people would have utilized this and in any case, we can always try our luck. The finger prints would have condensed away by now on the metallic surface of the lock but I can try the area on the door surrounding it." Frank was no longer speaking to Tony but to himself- a habit cultivated out of working on cases alone. He used to have Joe to thrash ideas with and when his brother was not present, he only had himself.

"Hmm… partial prints…" Frank commented after he was done. "Almost identical partial prints. Have the kidnapper disfigured his or her own fingers so we cannot identify it? Maybe I can get a full print in future for comparison." 

"You're losing me…" Tony had the most uncomfortable look in his eyes. "I'm feeling like a mannequin or something. I'm anxious too for Joe but right now, I am totally redundant."

"Sorry…" Frank straightened himself up after collecting the prints by photographing it with his Nikon F70 fully automatic 35mm camera equipped with a 60mm lens which was able to capture the prints dusted onto photographs under the scale of 1:1. "Too engross in my work."

"You have to be… or you won't be in this sucky line." 

"I thought you were envious of the high pay earlier on…"

"Yah. And then I thought of how you could easily lose your life too… running after that madman the way you did."

"It's my job." Frank kept the camera and was now studying the shelves. "My calling."

 "My calling is to be a Casanova. I love my calling although it doesn't pay well; in fact… plenty is spent on dating." Tony jested. Frank chuckled softly but stopped when his eyes caught a smear mark on the side of the L-Shaped shelf. He took a swab sample of it before putting on his gloves and set to work with his own set of lock picks on the service stairs entrance. When he heard the "snick" of success, he pulled his lips into a tight, serious line. 

"Do you want to follow?"

"Why not?" Tony shrugged. "I have nothing to do anyway and I don't think you're going to climb back up to fetch me."

"Just don't touch anything." Frank grinned at his friend. "You're receiving lessons from one of the very best."

"Either you're lousy teacher or I'm a terrible student because I don't get what you're mumbling to yourself." Tony sighed in surrender. "I'm following you so you don't get into trouble. Joe will have my head if you're hurt and he finds out that I'm the last person you're near."

Frank thought of Joe's display of rage and wisely shut his mouth. "Here goes." He opened the door and stepped through into the stairs landing on that level. He reached over for the light switches which he saw the outline of beside the door but they were not working. Sighing, he knew he would have to operate in the dark and he was not a lover of the night. Tony slid past the door, keeping his hands close to his chest.

"Not touching anything."

"Good." Frank took out his torchlight to illuminate the darkened area. "The kidnapper cannot delay… he's rushing for time…" Frank shone the torchlight onto the floor and noticed a faint set of shoe prints. 

"Hmm… right…" Tony mumbled, not really listening. 

"This would almost ascertain that our kidnapper used the service steps. But look at the shoe prints- they are faded and their direction tells us that the man was climbing _up towards the store when his shoes were still soiled." Frank passed the torchlight to Tony and motioned at the doorknob. "Shine there please, thanks."_

"Ok."

With the orange light illuminating the doorknob, Frank used his magnifying glass again and spotted the faint scratched marks he was looking for on the other side. Satisfied, he kept the magnifying glass and dusted around the knob for prints. Once again, the partial prints showed up and his eyes narrowed at the thought of what they could imply if his deductions were right.

"He used the service steps to get into the store so as to reduce the number of people who would have seen him. Partial prints again, identical to the first set I have dusted for in my eyes. Strange."  He took some pictures of the prints and kept everything back into his bag.

"We shall make our way down." 

"Whatever you say."

"You're getting very boring…" Frank drawled.

"So are you." Tony shot back.

"Shine the light on the ground. See how the foot prints are getting clearer and clearer as we go down?"

"So?"

"So we go right down to the exit and we'll find a very noticeable set of prints to take a picture of and identify."

The two friends made their way down in the dark and reached the bottom where the exit door was. Sure enough, near the door was a set of prominent footprints. If Frank had to venture a guess, he would say that the man had stepped into some mud before getting into his car. He didn't notice the mud on his shoes' soles of course or else he would have wiped it off. Because the lights in the service stairs area were out, he would not have noticed the marks he left behind.

_Careless_, Frank thought to himself. Even if the fingerprints were partial, a print of what looked like to be a strange design of footwear with the manufacturer's logo clearly shown as well could be his downfall. Frank took some pictures of it, noting the brand immediately. Lawry- it's an upscale male shoe brand that sold mainly custom-made dress shoes. He also lifted off the trace particles that made up the prints with a lifting tape. 

On his way down, Frank noticed that the doors of other levels leading to the service steps were sealed off. "Say Tony, why are the doors leading to other levels of the malls beside the basement and Toy'r'us locked? No longer in use?"

"Yup. Smaller stores had taken over what's left of Lacey… we kinda… to save trouble and yadda yadda yadda… sealed off the doors to this service steps at the lower levels. Might want to reopen them as fire escape stairs but we already have enough."

"Hmm… good. Makes my job easier." Frank commented. "He must have been heading down to the exit."

"Now you're so sure it's a him."

"If the footprint belongs to the culprit. It's obviously from a man's shoes. The brand, from the print, is Lawry. Lawry makes leather shoes for males only."

"Oh…" Tony shrugged again, not knowing what else to say as if Frank had just sealed the argument with irrefutable proof. He passed the torchlight to Frank, obviously tired out from holding the heavy, handheld power light. 

"Unless it's a woman with a penchant for wearing man's shoes." Frank countered himself back.

Tony snapped his fingers. "Of course! I was about to suggest that."

"But you didn't, so I win on all counts."

"Whatever…" 

Frank could imagine Tony rolling his eyes and smiled wryly. He opened the exit's door and entered the alleyway behind the mall.

"I love alleyways where people don't really like to go into. He's in a hurry. He has his car parked here." Frank shone the powerful light source onto the ground. "Tread marks. Caused by soil too- the man must have been in a muddy field or even his own garden right before he came.  Hold the torch for me."

As he was kneeling down to take pictures of the tread marks, Tony started humming the song from the Musical Annie. 

_"The sun'll come out…Tomorrow….Bet your bottom dollar… That tomorrow… There'll be sun…"_

Frank turned and gave his friend a weird look. Tony smiled sheepishly. "It's dark and we're in an isolated alleyway. I'm afraid of ghosts."

"So you have to sing about the sun coming out?"

"Yah… but don't tell anyone." Tony shone the light at Frank's face. "Or I'll torture you with this tonight. Are you done?"

Frank stood up and cracked his aching muscles. "More or less. Thanks Tony. It's been real fun. You're very helpful."

"Don't say things you don't mean, Hardy." Tony shone the light into Frank's eyes again. "Now, drive me home!"


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Elle Kang drove the wreck excuse for a car that she hired from the airport's car rental. Her left leg was screaming from pressing down the stiff, reluctant clutch which groaned and creaked each time she needed to clutch in to change gear. Her sentiment towards it was an exact mirror-image. If she had the choice, she wouldn't have touched it either.

And the worst part was, she had no idea who rented the car before her- the idea of foreign germs and virus floating in an enclosed space pre-occupied her mind for a good half of the journey. Having the windows down did nothing to calm her nerves either though her calculative, pretty mien remained stoic through the barrage of microscopic elements invading her being.

There was another reason to why she had the windows down. She loved the wind blowing against her long, raven tresses that were immaculately straightened.  Sure, she was born with generally straight hair but she wanted them perfect. It was her style- sleek, cutting and to the point.

The wind would muss up her hair but she could easily comb it neat again. Sometimes, a mild control freak like her loved to find some innocent release for the wild side repressed inside. And wind against her hair was a luxury that created a mess she could live with.

It was better than those who turned psychotic the moment they traveled out of familiar grounds, take on a new identity and started creating havoc. No, Elle knew control- if she could, she would control each and every one of her cells.

As she neared her destination, she wondered why she cared so much about the freak she had for a partner. First, he bailed out on her after he almost had a nervous breakdown because she tidied up his apartment. Secondly, when she called him, he did not even sound the least bit apologetic.  Logic was beyond Joe. All she was trying to do was to look for that darn file he misplaced and fear could seize hold of him so terribly that he just had to take flight. Tidying up his apartment was, to him, a ploy of hers to draw them closer than they already were. She was his best friend, his _only friend and, despite his ego about his own attractiveness which she could not deny as it was a fact, she was __not interested._

Elle Kang only wanted the file and she found it finally, stuck in between the germs infested crevice between his bed and the wall. She had to spray disinfectant all over the case file and on herself when she left the apartment.

The only thing that stopped her from chewing him up inside out was when he told her, through contained, troubled words, that his daughter, Hallie, was abducted. She believed him- she did not come to Bayport to investigate his words. Joe needed a whole range of vocabulary to define him, and even then, language failed to describe some of his unexplainable antics. Elle knew with dead certainty that "liar" was not one of them.

Although she might never clearly tell Joe, she was actually very worried for him and Hallie. The restraining order placed on Joe after that incident which he regretted with all his heart and soul but which he would never dare to face up to was like a ton of bricks crashing upon a man who was already knee deep in quicksand. 

And now, Hallie's kidnapped. If that did not drive her erratic partner over the edge, she _would be surprised._

A quick glance in the mirror told her that her dark red lipstick had bled. Stopping by the curb for a second to reapply her lipstick, she spotted the signboard behind her which informed her that she had missed the turn into Elm Street. Clucking her tongue in self-annoyance at her own supposed incompetence, she turned her head around and saw that the road was empty save her car. Stepping on the accelerator while in reverse mode, she quickly backed the car up and then swerved it swiftly into the lane where his family house was. He mentioned that his house was a Tudor-style work of art- a turn of the century architecture antique. After giving up on closely studying ridiculously tiny house number plates, she decided to look out for a house that matched his description instead.

She was fortunate. There was only one house built in that style in that quite, unassuming lane. A city girl, Elle never had the experience of staying in a house, preferring the heights and facilities a condominium offered. A no-nonsense, city girl. Yes. That was the description that Elle liked to think would encapsulate her identity. 

_"You're a no-nonsense city girl who's giving Dettol all their business! Geez… can you let up on me? I'm only having a sinus problem… you don't have to wear a mask."_

_"It helps to be careful in such trying times when each new virus is threatening to bring us closer to Apocalypse."_

_"If it's the end of the world, wearing the mask won't help, right? You'll still die."_

_"Yes." She smiled evilly at her partner. "But I'll live to see you die first."_

_"You really hate me so, huh?" His sculptured face twisted up with a little mock fear. "I should watch my back."_

_"I'll be nice if you can wipe the stain off the couch in our office. You spilled coffee there two days ago."_

_"Ok! Ok! You win! I'll go clean off the stain, disinfect myself and before I come see you, I'll wear a space suit."_

_"If only everyone is as enlightened as me…" She shook her head sadly before moving over to her desk and immediately started typing away._

She smiled at the memory. Working with Joe sure brought her life much color. And now, her partner was in trouble. How could she leave the poor, helpless man who could not tell the difference between a conventional and a microwave oven in the lurch?

Elle stepped out of the vehicle and saw another sight which made her more assured that she was at the right house. Their company's Land Rover was parked next to an earlier-model Volvo in the driveway. Joe had not made good on his promise to saw it into two. She was deeply relieved for she had almost thought, with his warped sense of reasoning lately, that he would actually grab an electric chainsaw and do it- just to prove a point that only he would know.

Ringing the bell on the side of the gate, she waited outside and if she was less of a lady, she would have tapped her feet. She saw shadows of movements from behind the thin white curtains and knew someone must be in. Trying her luck, she pushed the gate and it open easily under her gentle nudge as if her fingers had just performed some magic.

Adjusting her black-rimmed trendily small glasses as it had slipped down the bridge of her nose by a nanometer due to summer's perspiration; she made her way to the front door. Before she could knock, it opened and Joe pushed past her, buttoning up his casual short-sleeved bright orange shirt as he made his way to the Land Rover. A lovely blonde-haired woman, who resembled him greatly, called out from the window next to the door.

"Joe, honey, be careful."

_No, I'm wrong. He resembled her greatly. _

"I know mom. Luv y..." Joe turned around to wave back, stopping dead in his track and speech when he saw Elle standing next to the open doorway, watching him expectantly with folded arms and arched, faultlessly plucked brow. Laura tilted her head and rounded her eyes in surprise at the stranger who had intruded in their compound. Elle smiled as sweetly as she could though smiling would threaten wrinkles on her flawless skin. She wondered if she should wave and probably risk looking an idiot while doing so.

"Elle? Psycho? What are you doing here?" Joe slowly crossed the distance between the both of them. Elle shrugged and gestured to the Land Rover. 

"I want my half immediately and…" She stopped her flat jesting when she noticed how haggard her handsome partner had became in the last few days since she saw him. His eyes were incredibly sunken and his high cheekbones appeared much more jutting. Any more and his face would have melted into his skull.

"Who's that, dear?"

"It's my partner, Elle, from Chicago, Mom." Joe answered his mother. Turning to Elle, he cocked his head to one side with a questioning look in those overcast blue eyes. "And what Elle?"

"Oh… hello there. Would you like to come in?" Laura invited her from the window. Elle glanced at Joe and then at Laura. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Hardy, but I think Joe will need my help." Elle tilted her head slightly and softened her eyes in a show of comfort for the distressed father. Her heart broke when Joe grabbed her suddenly and embraced her. She could feel his heart pounding- most likely out of fear for his daughter. He could be an irresponsible, unreasonable and incomprehensible lout but he was a loving father who would rather kill himself than hurt a strand of hair on Hallie's head. That much she knew for sure and she wished, with all her heart, that Hallie would return to his side very soon.

"Yes, Psycho. Thanks for being here. You don't know how much this means to me."

Elle clapped his back and spoke gently. "You're welcome, Bugboy. Anytime." 

***

"Frank, meet Elle, my partner from Chicago. Elle, this is Frank and be nice." Joe gestured at Frank then at Elle to introduce the both of them to each other. Frank's sleepy eyes gave Elle a blurry once over. Joe knew Frank was up all night looking through evidence, at least, that was what Laura told him. He had wanted to kick himself in the butt when he learned of it- Hallie was his daughter, not Frank's. And what did he do? Down two Valiums because his parents thought he was about to lose it. Sure, he was exhausted both physically from the long car ride and mentally from Hallie's kidnap but he should be awake, shouldering his responsibility like a father should.

Frank was still blocking the entrance. With his brains on mushy mode, he was probably still processing their identities.

"Hello, Frank. At the behest of Joe, I'll be nice. Don't take this the wrong way but you seemed a little slow, not as sharp as he makes you up to be. And to dispel any implicit connotations that you might have picked up from his bias introduction about me, let me say, for the record, I'm always nice."

"Huh?" Frank finally regained back consciousness. He shook his head and was all cross-eyed from Elle's long-winded defense of herself. Joe had been anticipating this, knowing all the buttons that could push argumentative Elle, who had a compulsion to explain any misrepresentations of her away, no matter how slight, to react the way she did. He could barely contain his giggles as the scene was too comical, providing him some respite from all those perilously destructive emotions tossing in his guts. Elle was extremely frustrated at not getting her points across to a guy who looked like he could keel over and slip into dreamland immediately. His brother's crumpled shirt and uncombed hair did nothing to set Elle at ease too. 

When the understanding that he was being introduced to someone he had never met before finally dawned on him, Frank, the ever friendly chap, smiled apologetically before wiping his sweaty hands on his pants' legs and then holding one out for a handshake.

"Elle? I'm Frank. I'm sorry, I was real brain-dead but I'm all right now. Really please to meet you."

Elle stared at the hand offered to her in complete aghast, no doubt seeing germs and viruses gleefully dancing on Frank's palm. Horrified, enlarged pupils devoured her hazel eyes as most likely, she was fearful of what those germs would do to her- maybe corrode her alive. Frank, after a prolonged period, narrowed his eyes in bafflement, not knowing if he should retract his hand and be seen as rude for doing so.

Joe sighed- the mirth was gone, replaced by his characteristic impatience. The simple introduction was taking such a ridiculously long time. Drawing out a piece of antiseptic wipe from his pocket, which became a habit of his to carry around after becoming acquainted with Elle, he passed it to Frank, nodding at his brother's outstretched hand.

With an odd look in his eyes, Frank did as he was silently asked. When he reached out again for a handshake, Elle smiled strenuously and very quickly brushed her fingertips across his palm before shoving them back into her jeans' pockets.  "Please to meet you."

"So… please to meet you…too." Frank replied guardedly before breaking into a trying grin. However, when the friendliness was not returned, he coughed uneasily and motioned them in. 

Joe exhaled loudly and exclaimed, "Finally!"

"Go straight into that little room next to the kitchen… I'll join you people in a second… need some coffee. Any for you two?" 

"Thanks, Frank. I'll love to have some coffee though Joe will have water."

"Hey, Elle, I can decide these things for myself…"

"Your skin's getting dehydrated." His impossible partner stated crisply while she stroked his left cheek very quickly with her index finger. "You need water and not caffeinated drinks that will only dehydrate you even more."

Throwing a helpless look at the grinning Frank, Joe draped an arm across Elle's slim shoulders and led her into the room Frank was talking about. If Hallie was not missing, Frank would definitely find time to grill him about Elle's peculiarity.

"It's neat in here." Elle commented, mildly surprised. "From his appearance, I'll have thought he's as bad as you."

"And if he is? You're going to clean up his house too? Don't worry, Elle, Frank's the neatest and cleanest person I know, next to you of course. You won't catch anything here." Joe plopped himself down on a mini-couch which faced the study table that, by its sole presence, had already cluttered up the air-conditioned room that had no windows. Right away, Joe knew it was the apartment's storeroom. Elle's assessment of his brother brought back the sense of inadequacy back to invade his spirits.

"He's looking so terrible because he stayed up last night doing what I should be doing, investigating the case." Joe groused, becoming angrier at himself as he chewed on his knuckles.

Elle heaved a sigh of relief but she still performed her mandatory checks to see that the seat was not stained or looking too seedy before sitting down next to Joe. "Right. If you stay up the whole of last night, you'll be exhausted today, definitely worse than your brother and in no shape to help Hallie. You're not Superman, Joe."

"I wish I am. I really wish I am, right now."

There was a knock on the door and Joe rose up to answer it. Frank entered, carrying a tray of two cups of coffee and a glass of water. Setting it down on the study table, Frank gestured at the drinks as he almost gulped down his own coffee.

"Thanks." Joe took the water and passed the coffee to Elle who nodded her silent gratitude. Frank eyed Elle strangely from the corner of his eyes. Before Elle, who noticed the glance, could alert Frank of her annoyance with the way he was looking at her, Joe leaned over, holding the glass with both his hands and jumped right into the case. "So, what have you found last night? Any suspects we can go bust today?"

"Right now, I'm running a scan on some partial fingerprints I found at the crime scene. The results were not helpful at all because there's not enough of the print to make a comparison.  Pulled some favors and got the lab technician down at the police station, Albert Chan, to looking into a sample of a stain I swabbed from the crime scene. The stain turned out to be a commercial cream for burns- acid, flame… Picked up some soil sample for some prints too. Results- common garden soil. Nothing much to look into. The tread marks I found also belonged to a common car- Toyota. There are too many of this make around. But I think the partial fingerprints will turn out something for us if only we know where to search… partial fingerprints with the…"

"AFIS didn't come up with anything?" Joe pressed on impatiently before Frank would get too engross in the technical aspects, as he always did when he was excited. Frank pulled his lips into a straight line as his eyes hooded over with telepathic understanding.

"Don't worry, bro. I'm not going to ramble about the techniques. Like I said, the prints were partial- _too_ partial. However, the results of the swab proved my deductions- he did something to his fingers and used the cream to ease the pain. So most likely, his prints were… _erased recently"_

"Burned his prints off?" Elle asked crisply, her notepad in hand as she jotted down the important points that Frank had mentioned. Frank nodded.

"Yes. Burn them, or peel them away with acid."

Joe unconsciously rubbed his fingertips together, feeling a chill down his spine. "This guy is no run-of-the-mill kidnapper for ransom. He must have been planning this. We're dealing with someone who will go to great lengths to avoid being identified… and that's…" He did not even want to continue. If he was frightened for Hallie before, he was positively terrified now as his chest felt like it was crushed in a vacuum space. In his frenzied mind, he was already counting the hours that Hallie had gone missing.

_Too long.__ Too long… _

"Yes… but whoever it is, we can outwit him, Joe. Even the smoothest of all criminals would leave something behind for us to nab him." Frank tried to assure him but Joe refused to be comforted into complacency.

"No, Frank. How many unsolved cases are there? Plenty and sometimes, the criminal's prints all over the place but we just don't have the necessary information to capture him or her. I don't want to think I can outwit him. I **_must _**outwit him." Joe clenched his fists. "Anything else?"

"Yes… hang on." Frank swiveled one of his two LCD monitors which were hooked to a scary looking CPU to face them. "See this? I scanned in the photograph of a footprint that I have taken. The logo on the sole clearly shows that it's from the high-end man's shoes brand, Lawry. They only sell custom-made dress shoes. Dress shoes are normally tapered at the toes but this has a too wide toe area- indicating that our man has some deformed toes that needed this special design. However, there's this other logo that's captured besides Lawry's. LTD. Last I checked, Lawry's logo does not have this added initials and it's not a limited company. The culprit wears size 12, like you."

"I don't wear Donald Duck's leather shoes, thank you very much. I love my trainers." Joe snapped, hating the way his brother sounded even though it could be his paranoid ears picking up all the wrong signals. He was reminded of the questioning that took up precious time and energy in the police station and hatred soared to his head for everyone who thought he could bear to put Hallie through such an ordeal just to keep her by his side. If he wanted to have her back without any fine-prints, he would fight for custody again, which would not be too long once the restraining order was lifted. Frank raised his brows, surprised at Joe's reaction to his innocuous comments probably. Joe didn't care- he averted his gaze and scowled at all the imagined enemies in his mind.

"Maybe we can go down to Lawry's branch in Bayport… if there's one… and find out how we can access their customers' files…"

"Oh great, Elle. So you'll just strut inside the shop, wriggle your butt looking all sexy and hope that the guy behind the counter would pass you a file containing information of all their customers who wear size twelve and have freakish toes." Joe was still fuming mad and, just like many times before, he took it out verbally on someone else. Instantly, he felt guilty for his derisive remarks and wanted to apologize but the anger that was constricting his chest forced words of contrition to choke in his throat.

Elle was not gagged on her own irritation though. She faced him with an icy glare. "I don't deserve this, Joseph Hardy. Get out of here and scream it out before you talk to me or anyone again."

Joe inhaled in deeply and counted to ten like how his therapist taught him too. Frank was helpless again like last night. Bet they did not know how his control over his own bad temper had slipped throughout these years. Joe could not believe it either. He was getting better, really. But anger was perhaps easier to deal with than fear for him and it was anger that his dread at the whole situation manifested into. 

When Frank stood up and was about to go over and cool him down, Joe's shaking fist slammed into the back of the couch. Ignoring the two of them, he jumped to his feet, threw open the door, stepped out and violently shut it behind him with a loud crash.

_"Don't talk to me like that, Ness! You think you're smarter than me? Too good for me? You always think that! Don't you dare ignore me when I'm talking to you! I'm asking you a question, damn it! Who's this Professor Greg?"_

_"He's just a friend! A visiting college professor! And you're not asking, you're yelling. You're always shouting and that's why I can't talk to you! Don't come into the room tonight, you're making Hallie cry!"_

_"Me? Making Hallie cry? Why would I shout, Ness?! You never want to spend time at home any more! Enjoying your new social life? I'm slogging my ass off to pay for your tuition and at the very least I DEMAND SOME RESPECT! But I guess my 'smart' wife can't explain clearly to me, WHO'S GREG!"_

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Joe let out a bellow that rose from the pits of his churning guts. Hyperventilating, he crumbled down, clutching his spiky hair as livid white specks bombarded his vision.

_"Greg's no one. Calm yourself down. He's **no one**."_

_"No one?__ NO ONE? If he's NO ONE why would he call you and ask you out for dinner twice in TWO DAYS? And you actually went yesterday! Great! Was it at a ritzy place, huh? Did you put on your favorite gown while I worked the damn night shift? Had fun? He liked our wedding bed?"_

_"Look at this Joe Hardy. I wear this ring always. I wear you on my heart always. If you can't believe me, there's nothing I can do. But I'm not going to stand here and take your wild, stupid accusations."_

"You can say you love me. You can kiss and hold me. I'm no monster; I won't hurt you and Hallie, not on my life even." Joe whispered harshly as a bloated teardrop splashed onto the marble floor. "And now Hallie's gone. Hallie's gone and you're not here by my side to see _us through so __we can find her."_

"Joe, are you ok?"

"Do I look ok, Frank?" Joe barked. "Don't ask me that until Hallie's safe in my arms because the answer is obviously, 'no', till then."

Frank nudged his shoulder with the back of his hand. "Here, stand up. I'm only tolerating your tirades because I can understand how worried you must be. But we too are deeply anxious for Hallie's safety. You're not helping Hallie by giving in to your temper and losing it. Hallie needs her dad to be calm and composed so he can set his brilliant mind at work to save her."

Hallie's innocent, impish eyes stared right back into his hardened ones and they dissolved all the wrath at himself that he wanted to explode the world with. Her childlike love for a father whom she adored whole-heartedly embraced his soul and soothed it with the most beautiful song as sweet as cotton candy. He could feel her childish fingers naughtily roaming his face, smearing his cheeks with chocolate stains.  He remembered how she once pulled a prank on him by meshing up a bubble gum on his hair which was collar-length then while she bobbed up and down on his broad shoulders, in sync with his unsuspecting gait. He had to cut his hair all off but he never scolded her. They both had a good laugh out of it but he made sure he told her never to do it to anyone else because they would get very angry.

Did Hallie did something to make the psycho who abducted her angry? But she was calling for him as she ran to her kidnapper.

_I promise you, Hallie. Cross my heart and hope to die. Daddy will not lose himself and Daddy will **never** lose you._

"I'm sorry." He muttered, grabbing Frank's outstretched hand to yank himself back up on his feet. "Is Elle still mad?"

"Oh yes. She started mumbling about what a huge virus you are… then went on about the germs and dust in my very clean office making her skin itch… I just had to come get you… partly to get away from her and partly because your shouting will have me ousted out of my apartment by irate neighbors. Is she… well… you know…" Frank gestured around vaguely, "Not quite… hmm…"

Joe smiled wryly, knowing the way Frank felt about Elle was the same as his when he joined an investigative firm in Chicago right after obtaining his PI license. Elle was his colleague and they were earning peanuts for their mammoth work. After a drink in the bar, he realized that Elle was not as frightful as she appeared and that she was actually nice. A friendship blossomed and they decided to leave the oppressive firm to strike out on their own in a partnership.

"Nay, she's not crazy and she's really…well, great. Mental illnesses aren't crimes you know. She may be anal about cleanliness and hygiene but when she trusts you, you'll no longer be a walking breeding ground for viruses to her. Give yourself time to grow on her. I think, for Elle, it's really about trust issues."

"Myself time to grow on her?" Frank stared at him, incredulous. "Shouldn't it be the other way?"

Joe raised a brow and grinned cheekily. "Elle doesn't grow on people. She makes an impact with her oddity and then, she _will turn your life upside down."_

"How?" Frank half-shrugged with open palms. "I don't get it..."

Joe narrowed his eyes as the spine-chilling memory of returning to his bachelor's pad to find it sparkling clean and smelling of disinfectant creeping eerily through the crevasses of his mind.

"Like clean up your place." Joe replied, shuddering lightly.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Homecoming

Itsmeocean@hotmail.com

"Hey Cal…" Frank hastily hooked the earpiece over his ear when his mobile suddenly buzzed to the tune of Canon In D. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Joe jumped a little in the passenger seat of his Lexus when the cell phone rang. Joe shook his head and mumbled "polyphonic" like it was a dirty word.

"Darling… what's this about Hallie being missing? I called Laura and she was rather beside herself."

"We're looking into it right now. There's a promising lead. How's your presentation?" Frank spoke as calmly as he could for Callie was going into her high-pitched agitated shrilling voice.  With everyone around him freaking out, someone had to remain collected or they would all be losing their minds and running amok in useless circles to nowhere.

Callie sighed, "It's ok, won't be counting on a promotion though since I'm not accredited- _again. Look, that's not important. I'll be ditching my boss and taking the plane back to Bayport later today. Maybe I can help. You got your car from the airport? How's Joe taking it?"_

Frank smiled lightly as an old twinkle shone in his eyes. Callie always wanting to _help_ was a trait of hers that would never change. When he glanced at Joe who was pounding his fist against his jaw in frustration at the slow traffic owing to the congested junctions downtown, his smile dissolved. 

_He's having an anger problem… a bad one… one which roots that he doesn't care to share with us. And he's worried to death over Hallie… other than that, he's really all right._

"Yes, I got my car back and I'm driving it right now. And Joe… he's as well as he could be, I guess…" 

"Is that Callie? Tell her I'm fine and hang up." Joe mumbled dryly. Elle, who had re-applied her lipstick and was now fluffing her hair, probably anticipating some cruder forms of baiting tactics that she might need to employ, shook her head.

"You're anything but," She drawled cynically from behind.

"Shut up, Psycho." 

"Times like that I don't even know why I bother to care." Elle coldly snapped back. Frank thought Joe was about to shoot a nasty retort but was pleasantly relieved when Joe simply scowled and slumped back in his seat, glaring at the cars in front like he was trying to combust all of them with some latent pyrokinetic power. 

Just when everything settled down, Joe mumbled something rude under his breath. Elle's ears caught it and immediately lashed out. "You should be born without a tongue."

Frank felt the budding throb of a migraine pounding against his forehead. "We'll be all right. By the way, I miss you. Pray for us."

"I'll do more than pray. I said I'm coming back, now. See you in a few hours time. Love ya." Callie kissed him over the phone and disconnected the call. Frank listened to the beeping tone that followed- listened to the lingering ghosts of their conversation which brought him some peace amidst the tension he was feeling.

"Where's this Chijmes Galleries?" Joe growled. "Why are new buildings sprouting up when we don't need them?"

"You've been gone for seven years, Joe. Things evolved and develop… like the _expanding_ downtown area."

"Yah. Choose this appropriate time to rub it in, Frank." Joe crossed his arms angrily. "Why's everyone on my case?"

"You're the one jumping on _everyone." Frank sternly reproached him. "Cool it! The ritzy building right in front is Chjimes- a novelty mall targeted at the higher-income group."_

Joe snorted, Elle rolled her eyes and Frank prayed for sanity. Finally, the traffic eased up and Frank maneuvered the Lexus into the basement parking lot of the posh shopping mall that, though only three stories high, was indeed a much more extravagant affair than Bayport Mall. The moment they entered, designer brands subtly beckoned them. Just the labels alone were enough to infuse the stores with the atmosphere of decadence.

Lawry occupied a corner shop on the second floor. The scent of leather wafted into Frank's nose when they neared the shop and his spirits soared a little because everything in this mall smelled new, expensive and clean. Strips of leather samples and exquisitely crafted shoes lined the storefront tastefully.

There was only a husky orange-haired man with a gold nose stud and dressed in a simple but chic suit in the main area of the store. A Chinese screen divided the main area from the private space behind, most probably utilized to take measurements of customers' feet. 

He was speaking animatedly into the phone, probably not expecting customers to stroll in so early on a Tuesday afternoon. That would also explain why they could not get through when they tried calling the shop earlier on. Joe had excused himself to visit the Gents, leaving Frank alone with Elle for a moment. Frank was already having the most ominous feeling that any minute with Elle was a minute too long.

_How did my brother with no patience for anyone's nonsense endure her antics?_

He held the door open for Elle who stood a step before the entrance. She showed no appreciation for his act of chivalry which was a second nature to him and instead, smiled extremely forcefully.

"I'm actually capable of opening my own doors."

"Fine." Frank shrugged, stepped in and released his hand from the door's handle, letting it swing in her face. Elle was quick to support the sealing door with her elbow. 

"What's your problem? You're really rude." 

Frank decided then that the girl was impossible to reason with. Turning around slowly; his usual friendly countenance was severely challenged. "You are capable of opening your own doors so I think you're definitely more than qualified to keep the doors open."

Elle scowled at him, striding past him with the graceful gait of a sultry, peeved cat up to the counter. She flicked her hair behind her back and leaned against the counter top to gain the shop assistant's attention. Frank reached her side in a second and saw, to his amusement, how quick her expression of hostility changed to that of extreme amiability, though not directed at him of course. Her charming smile, showing her perfect, white teeth, all but dissolved her shark-like personality.

"Hello, I was wondering if you have the time…"

"Shh… hold on." The man spoke dryly into the phone and looked up with a harassed expression, covering the mouthpiece at the same time.  "Yes? Do you have an appointment with any of our shoemakers?"

"No, I just want to…" Elle could barely begin when the man's lips curled up in a twisted smile, raising his hand to halt her.

"Then please wait. They're all terribly busy and so am I." The man curtly replied, waving the two of them haughtily away before returning to his animated conversation. Frank hunched over to try figure out what important call the man was on.

"Yes… those dancers at Venom in Seventh Street… oh… gorgeous aren't they? Especially the blond in the centre all the time… hmm…"

A slow smile crept up Frank's lips but before he could inform Elle about his plans, having in his mind a quick mental profile of the man they were tackling, Elle announced her intentions in a serious tone.

"Please, we just need to ask you some questions. A girl has disappeared…"

The orange head bobbed up again with light brown eyes hooded menacingly. "That's hardly my problem. I don't have any female friends who disappeared."

Elle fumed. The man was now gossiping into the phone, most likely badmouthing about two eccentrics who had just stepped into the shop to his friend. Frank nudged Elle who was losing her patience as she drummed her fingers on the counter top.

"Yes?" Elle whispered back, irritation lacing her monosyllabic response that spoke volumes about her animosity towards a newly found, carrot-top nemesis. Frank guided her gently by the shoulders towards the entrance of the shop and she roughly shook away his touch. "Please, this is sexual harassment."

He rolled his eyes. So much for trying to be easy-going to counter her jagged personality. "We'll let Joe handle this."

"Why?" She countered back harshly, obviously taking it personally as an insult to her socializing skills.

"The man's not going to entertain us. He likes blonds and we're not. Venom in Seventh Street is like the Blue Oyster Club headquarters in Bayport… get what I mean? He might be more receptive to Joe than us." Frank drawled from the corner of his lips and as realization dawned on Elle, her cunning eyes glowed mischievously. For a moment, Frank thought she was really attractive- a young girl who actually knew how to have fun.

"Ah… I see…"

"Joe shouldn't be taking much too long." Frank glanced at his watch. "It's better than wasting our breath with…" He cocked his head at the shop assistant whose conversation was clutching in into a higher gear.

Elle nodded and smiled almost affably at him but the friendliness was quickly replaced by a sudden guardedness. She walked away from him out of shop and he followed her, a little confused now about her character but the bafflement was replaced with relief when he noticed Joe jogging hurriedly towards the shop to join them.

***

The orange-haired man did a double take when Joe strolled up to the counter. Though outwardly calm, he was seething inside and ready to punch the guy for being uncooperative.  When Frank told him that the guy refused to put down the phone and answer their queries, Joe had innocently asked Frank if he should threaten to punch the guy's jaws to get him to speak.

_"No! Joe… subtle means." Frank warned him. Joe smiled wryly._

_"Of course.__ I was only kidding… well, half-kidding."_

Whispering a hushed farewell into the phone, the shop assistant beamed at Joe who was a little too affected and beleaguered to reciprocate the same level of affability though he wondered why Frank could call such prompt response 'downright retarded'. A stretched of his lips was all he could manage, though, he did lower his eyelids to soften the hard look in his blue orbs- the latter would definitely not endear people to open up to him with information.

"Hello, sir. How may I assist you?" The man's booming voice filled up the detached silence of the up-market shoe shop as he stood up and grabbed both of Joe's hands in an over-vigorous handshake. Joe was more than a little taken aback by the effusive shop assistant and actually froze for a moment.

_Strange.__ Frank said he was real unfriendly and hostile._

"Hmm… oh… yes. I have this question. If I want to make a pair of shoes for a good friend of mine but I want it to be a surprise gift, can I just give you the name of my friend who had custom-made a pair of shoes here before and you can check for his measurements in… well… your database or something?" _And vice versa?__ Measurements that can lead me to his name? _Joe gazed intently with sincerity at the man, hoping to convince him of his feigned intentions. The man narrowed his eyes as if he was in deep thoughts before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry but we don't have such a database. Lawry's a company that brings together the finest of all shoemakers under one roof and it's with the individual craft master that your friend's measurements may be with… if the person making his shoes does keep records. If you know his regular shoemaker, maybe I can help. By the way, I'm Hugh. Have I met you before? Maybe down at Venom in Seventh Street or its _affiliated pubs and discos in other areas? You do look familiar."_

Joe arched his brows, peering at the man before shaking his head apologetically. "I'm sorry. I haven't been in town for a while so the street and place you're talking about is lost to me…" He noticed the shop assistant looking a tad too dejected but decided that it was none of his concern. "So, Hugh, how do I find out who's his shoemaker? Do they have any… say… signatures or something on every pair of shoes that they make to identify it's their work?"

"Yup, they do. In fact, you can just turn your _friend's shoes over and take a look at the sole. Normally, the shoemakers carved their initials next to the logo. So… is your friend a normal friend or a… well…_ special_ _friend?" _ Hugh raised a suggestive brow at Joe but his hinting was lost to the handsome young man though Joe was feeling a little more than awkward receiving such attention from another male. Now, he was contemplating about what Frank said regarding the man's eccentricity about speaking only to blonds._

"Hmm… a friend. Well, that's what I thought… the initials I mean. Does the initials LTD mean anything to you?"

"LTD?" Hugh curled his lower lip inwards before he snapped his fingers suddenly, scaring Joe again with his abruptness. "Of course! Lester T. Demoir! He's one of our most popular shoemaker and pays extreme attention to fine details. I'm sure he will have a record of your _friend's_ measurements somewhere but lemme check if he's available… he's not really base here or in other outlets…" Hugh patted Joe's right hand which was resting on the polished, black marble counter top, eliciting a glare from Joe directed at the affected appendage. However, Joe had enough sense to not want to offend the shop assistant when the information he desired was so close to being revealed and, thus, only shoved his hands causally into his baggy jeans' pockets when Hugh was typing furiously away on his console.

"Lester Demoir… oh dear… I'm so sorry…" Hugh's eyes hooded over in sympathy. "He's quite a weird fellow… well, it's stated here that he won't be available for the next few months because he's overseas… somewhere…"

A little anxious now that the door to their most promising lead would be slammed shut in his face, Joe hunched over the counter and tried to look into the monitor. "Do you know where he's gone too or how may I contact him… anything?"

"Well, I have his name card which I can give you but when the man's on a vacation, he's on a _vacation._ He's famous for disappearing without any notice. Are you sure you have never been to Venom? Interested in going there, maybe?"

"His name card? Is his mobile no. on it? Email address? Home address? Whatever?" Joe straightened up as his barrage of questions seemed to carry a force along with them that caused Hugh to be a little helplessly taken aback.

"Whoa… slow down, tiger. All right… here's his name card…" Hugh reached into a drawer and drew out a piece of white, wallet-sized paper with gold and silver trimmings. "Though I think your efforts to contact him may be wasted. And here's mine…" He took another similar card but without the elaborated motif along the edges from the cardholder on the counter top and passed both the cards to Joe. "Just in case you need to call back and check for further information of course."

"Wait… is this his address? He works from home?" Joe studied the name card he was interested in. Beverly Hills. Lawry's flagship store was in the famous city but the address stated on the card was not the same as the store's- for one, it pointed to a condominium rather the shoe boutique along Rodeo Drive.

"Yes… he does. He makes personal visits too…" Hugh nodded. "Good luck and if you can't find him, I can always recommend another shoe designer to you…"

Joe stuffed the name cards into his breast pocket and smiled genuinely at Hugh for the first time. For all the man's overly demonstrative cordialness, he was actually being more helpful than he would ever know.

"Thank you very much." Joe wanted to stretch his right hand out for a handshake but thought better than to risk getting his bones crushed in the man's enthusiasm. 

"No worries! If you _do frequent Venom, I'm usually with my friends at the second boo…" Hugh called out to Joe who had already spun around on his heels and marched out of the store to join Elle and Frank. They would need to check out the information and find out where Lester Demoir was. Joe was very sure the shoemaker could lead them to the bastard who kidnapped Hallie._

And the abductor would regret tremendously at ever crossing paths with him and his loved ones.


	9. Chapter 8 Competition

Chapter 8

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

_She was so small, so precious and covered in her mother's blood; however, the blood was not spilled in death but given for life. Her little eyes were squeezed shut and she was bawling loudly, her tiny fingers curled in two little fists. She was crying as if she was afraid of coming into this world, or rather, frightened of this enormous gift presented before her._

_Her mother, lovely in her exhaustion at having brought her out to partake in the gift which was the gift of a most beautiful world despite its flaws, lifted her lips in a slight, tired but blissful smile. The nurse carried her over to him. He was so overwhelmed and all flustered- the feelings bubbling in him alternated between causing him to either want to laugh or cry maniacally. He was lost in the most powerful jubilation that he had ever experienced. Holding her close to his chest, he was so afraid he would drop her but he didn't._

_"Shh… Hallie… don't cry…. Hallie…" He sung to her softly and exchanged a loving look with his wife. She beckoned him weakly and he gently walked over to her side, fearing if his steps were too hurried in his excitement, he would shock little Hallie into further duress._

_He knelt down as Vanessa's limp fingers ran over Hallie's tiny, wrinkled face spilling over with her features which Joe knew would make her the most beautiful girl in the world, next to her mother of course. The couple smiled at each other, or rather, the father grinned goofily at the mother, unable to express his joy verbally. She chuckled at his wide-eyed elation and he kissed her sweat-beaded forehead. They were both adrift in the magic of love; over the moon with the miracle, and oblivious to the doctor, nurses, and green and white sanitary décor of the delivery room. _

_"I love you, Vanessa Hardy."_

_"I love you too, Joseph Hardy."_

_He was a father now. He was blessed with the most precious gift in the world and God forbid that he should drop it. No. He held Hallie close, secured in his strong arms. She would be safe- Hallie would always be safe._

_He, Joseph Hardy, was both a husband and a father now._

_And it was the most indescribable experience he ever had- an experience he planned to be living for the rest of his life._

***

While Frank and Elle were back at the condominium doing some checks on Lester Demoir, Joe took his Land Rover to make a short trip over to Vanessa's place. Waiting for the traffic to move again while the glaring sun sliced through his expensive, protective shades and hurt his eyes, his worry and desperate yearning to see Hallie safe again caused him to reminisce about the first day Hallie and him met. He had often pondered over what was his daughter's first impression of him- the harried father who almost did not know how to hold a baby properly. And he hoped that the memories would not be a poignant portend to Hallie's dismiss. 

He almost swore that the treacherous red lights and dreaming drivers slowing the traffic in front of him were in a conspiracy to antagonize him until he shoot through the roof of his vehicle. Coupled that with a tiny voice niggling him about his intentions to visit Vanessa, Joe was about to burst out screaming from a tension tearing up his chest. He had no idea why he would feel the urge to check on Vanessa- probably because it was a fact that they did share a physical and spiritual bond through Hallie. No matter what happened between the both of them, they helped created something miraculous together. Once, they had love and once, they did believe that their love would conquer everything and triumph against all odds. They thought they were invincible- as long as they had each other.

It was not to be. They were not indomitable and the love they had was a double-edged sword without wisdom and maturity. It veered out of control and exposed the ugliness inside the both of them that they could not face up to nor accept of each other. Because the love once brought Joe so much happiness, it stabbed at his heart with a thousand daggers the moment it soured. As always, when something beautiful and treasured suddenly shattered because no one did anything in time to heal the cracks, there would be nothing left but emptiness- like a mirror smashed to smithereens, revealing only the barren wall behind. For Joe, the emptiness turned into bitterness which smoldered into anger that he was deeply thankful that he had the sense to seek help for.

_Apparently not fast enough._ _The black van was still thrashed, anyway._

He smiled sardonically at the memories. The real motives behind visiting Vanessa were still beyond his comprehension- part of him wanted to blame her for Hallie's disappearance. Part of him, the wiser part, told him it was nobody's fault and it could have happened to him as well.

And most of him just wanted to make sure she was fine, that she would not be too distraught. He gripped his steering wheel tightly. Hallie should be his sole concern. Why was he still caring for Vanessa when he no longer mattered to her?

He reached the barn finally and pulled into the driveway. The gates were opened and a black, Porsche, the same one which came to fetch Vanessa from his place, was already parked in front of the house. Bile rose up his throat- he guessed he never really stopped resenting Vanessa's marriage to Greg Bunhill so soon after the divorce. When she visited him to tell him that she had applied to annul the marriage just so Greg and her could get married in a Catholic Church, he had slammed the door in her face. 

He knew it was not only the marriage- no. He was a person full of pride and once Frank cautioned him that his pride would be his downfall if he was not careful. The fact that Greg was such a prominent and distinguished member in the academic field and an upstanding, rich and influential citizen, able to open up many doors for Vanessa's talents in computerized animations to go places, made him feel lower and so much more worthless than the scum worms fed on.

Pulling up next to the Porsche, he got out and knocked on the door, a little apprehensive about how Andrea would receive him. Would she feel injustice for her daughter? But Joe knew he did not do anything to Vanessa- Vanessa was only overreacting.

_Was she?_

He heard the knob turned and in an instant, the door swung open. Andrea was taken aback, her ponytail loose and untidy. Tired eyes hardened at the sight of him, causing him to bite his lips before greeting her almost inaudibly.

"Hi, Andrea. Is Ness here?"

"She is. What do you want? There's a restraining order which state that you cannot be within five-hundred meters radius from her. She's been very tolerant too about your secret, _unsupervised_ meetings with Hallie but I won't be as patient as her. Please leave."

"Andrea… the order was a bias mistake and Ness knows it as well as you do! It'll be lifted soon and I have never touched a hair on Ness's head. Why don't you ask Ness if she wants to talk to me." Joe squeezed civil words out measurably despite his urge to yell. Andrea narrowed her eyes and was about to shut the door in his face when Vanessa called out.

"Mom, let him in. It's ok. Greg's here."

_It's ok. Greg's here. Greg will protect me from scary Joe with the funny earrings and that tattoo on his forearm!_

Joe was reminded of how someone once told him that the person who could hurt him the worst was the person who mattered to him the most. Vanessa always got to him. He could not help being suspicious over everything she said; could not help looking out for all the implied meanings behind her words be they real or imagined. His therapist in the class told him that if he could just accept that his marriage with Vanessa was over before he even signed the papers- that he should accept his blame for the failure in the marriage and move on, he could live a much more fulfilling life.

Which was what he tried to do but old habits were hard to break. Andrea scowled at him but she moved aside, letting him in. Joe stepped in and saw Vanessa looking over her shoulder from the couch, huddling up close next to Greg, her left hand clutching the cordless phone tightly.

_She clutched my hand tightly that way when we were at the clinic. I was her rock, her support. I was the one who told her to keep Hallie! I was the one who loved her and wanted to take responsibility! I was her everything! Not you, Greg Lumberhead!_

"Hello, Joe."

"Hi, Ness." 

"Hi, Joe." A solemn, gravelly voice accompanied a grim, unwelcoming smile. Joe did not know if it was because of Greg sharp and cutting nature like a surgeon's scalpel- from his thin, beak nose to his ultra-straight black hair- or just the fact that Greg was now his daughter's official guardian together with Vanessa, but Joe was peeved each time he met Greg. Mercifully, those encounters were not often.

"Hi." He would not even honor the man by speaking his name. If that made him childish, so be it.  Now, he would just say his piece and go.

"I just want to let you know, Ness, that we are doing all we can to bring Hallie back. I will get _our_ daughter back, Ness. Don't worry too much." _Leave the worrying to me._

"She'll return sooner if you'll give her up." Greg spoke woodenly although his green eyes flashed tauntingly. Joe felt the unquenchable fire in him being stoke to blazing flames again but he would not succumb to the raging inferno that Greg must be hoping to spark in him. He narrowed his eyes coldly instead.

_Hallie's my daughter, damn it! Not yours!_

"I believe I'm cleared."

"That's your belief. We don't necessary have to agree with it." Greg drawled with hostility. Vanessa, sensing the tension escalating, tapped her husband's broad shoulder.

"I believe now that Joe wouldn't do such a thing…" Vanessa calmed her husband down and smiled shakily at Joe. "If you need help, just call on m… us."

Joe grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. Andrea was still by the door, now seeing him out. He left without bidding them farewell, incensed by Greg, incensed by himself. Andrea shut the door behind him and shut out hostility.

_Well, at least now I know she's fine. Not worried to death or anything._

Before he went to his car, he spotted Greg's shoes just outside the door. Taking a close look at it, he saw that it was a size ten, normal pair of man's dress shoes of an Italian brand. He felt no relief- instead; there was a warped sense of disappointment that Greg's shoes did not match the abductor's.

Looking around, he saw that the windows' were closed and the blinds drawn as the interior was air-conditioned to beat the summer heat. Whistling to himself, he _accidentally stamped on Greg's impeccable leather shoes and kicked one side away into the gutter at the side of the house._

_Oops._

Next, he took out his keys and as he walked in between the cars to get into the driver's side of his, he made sure he left a nice, pretty scratch on the disgustingly posh Porsche.

_Now, Joey. That's not a very nice way to deal with your anger towards a jerk._

_So?_

He traveled down the expressway back to the downtown area, smiling with some sense of accomplishment and renewed spirits, if only for a moment. After a while, he realized that it was getting too dark and thus he slipped his shades over his head, noticing the gathering clouds overhead and cursing the erratic weather. He sped up, challenging the clouds to gain grounds on him. No, this time, he was going to win.

He was about to turn into Frank's apartment's parking lot when his mobile beeped.

"Who can it be this time?" He groused, not happy with the interruption. It was his father. He could not even register the exact words that Fenton was speaking to him but his blue eyes flared with the radiance of the hottest gas flame and he disconnected the call without muttering a single word.

Making a sharp detour out of the car park, Joe sped all the way back home.

He was speeding, colliding headlong with the path of the heavy, looming clouds. The thunder roared.

And so did his anxiety and hair-ripping frustration soar with the increasingly frantic rhythm of the crashing downpour.

***

"So, you and Joe used to solve cases together in your teens?" Elle peered at Frank from behind her trendy glasses. Frank gazed in anticipation at the phone, willing for it to ring while he smiled deprecatingly. 

"Yes. We were, and still are, a great team."

Elle nodded as she listlessly tapped her fingers on the small corner table next to the mini couch in his storeroom-study. "Your police friends are pretty inefficient. It's been an hour since we gave them the name to check out and they haven't called yet. You're on good terms with them? The policemen that Joe and I came across see us competition to be annihilated most of the time."

"You'll need their resources so it's best if you can at least make a friend or two in the force. Of course if Lester would answer his mobile, we would not have to go through so much trouble…" Frank inhaled deeply as he studied Elle from the corner of his eyes, trying to size her up- see if she was feeling more open towards him. "Elle, if you don't mind me asking, do you know anything about Joe and Vanessa? My brother's anger level has rose several notches since he left home… it's a little… well… disconcerting." 

Elle bared her teeth in a smile that made her look like bored shark as she folded her arms. "Just great. Here we are, waiting for Joe to show; waiting for your police friend to come up with something; worried sick to death over Hallie; and you want to gossip."

Frank swallowed hard, wondering again how on earth Joe could stand someone as insufferable as Elle. Good looks could only smooth over a trying personality for a short while. "No, I'm not gossiping. I just want to know what happened to my brother which he won't tell me if I ask him…"

"And what makes you think I'll tell you? What makes you think I will know and even if I know, what makes you think I won't doctor my answers with my biasness?" Elle argued, giving him a haughty look. "Ah, so Einstein's speechless."

"Elle, have I offended you in anyway?" Frank smiled as amiably as he could although he wanted to strangle the woman already- the only thing that was stopping him from being brusque with her was that she, well, was a female and he was a gentleman, though a grudging one at that moment.

"Yes though I have to admit that it's not your fault, really. Joe coming back to Bayport means that I'll soon be without a partner. I don't think I should be very pleased with that prospect."

Frank smiled uneasily but there were so much more he wanted to know- so many questions that she held the answers to. Lifting his lips up further in a wider smile and half-shrugging his shoulders with upturned palms in a gesture which he hoped would make him seem more open and less threatening to her, he asked with an ingenuous voice, "What made him leave Chicago in the first place? Now, I think you can fill me in on that." 

Elle folded her arms, frowning at the memory. "I cleaned up his apartment looking for a file. He freaked out and ran. But I guess that was only the trigger. He's been homesick for quite some time."

Frank chuckled, finally comprehending what Joe told him earlier that day about how Elle would turn someone's life upside down by cleaning up their place. "That's strange. He never split when mom cleans up his room."

"He has issues with women wanting to get too close to him. The scores of girlfriends he left back in Chicago crying their eyes out because he cannot commit are pretty much evidence. But I can't blame the chap- he has no friends, no trust and no ambition."

"Won't you consider yourself his friend? The both of you seemed pretty tight. He must mean something to you for you to come down all the way."

Elle's arrogance melted into a cautionary glower. "Yes, he's my friend, the poor sod. I'm concern for him but I'm here for our car which he stole."

He nodded, stroking his chin. "Yeah. Right. If that were so, why not just take it and leave?"

"Nope, I can't. Can't leave without my partner. And we need to find his daughter so he doesn't go crazy… as if he isn't crazy enough already."

"He's my partner too."

Elle smiled at him a little tediously, like he was some sullen kid who needed to be corrected. "Joe and I have a firm back in Chicago with cases to look into. Until he finished up all his backdated work, he cannot be released."

"I will beg to differ. I'm his brother- we are bonded by blood. You're his business partner- bonded only by money." Frank matched her condescending smile perfectly; no longer interested in trying to connect with her on any level. She blinked at him and he arched his brows challengingly. The phone rang and they both rushed to pick it up although Frank won by default, given that the phone was just right in front of him on his study desk. 

"Hello? Con? Yes… Lester Demoir's out of the country? Booked a one way ticket to Switzerland last month, left and haven't returned? Thanks… yes… I won't breathe a word to Chief but I think he'll understand given the circumstances. ..Information sharing too, you know…Let me get a crack at the guy first. Thanks again." Frank disconnected the call and was about phone the airlines to book threetickets- when he really only wanted to reserve for two- for the earliest flight to Los Angeles when the phone rang again. Elle looked up at him expectantly, not wanting to compete anymore.

"Hello, Frank Hardy here."

"Frank? It's dad. You better come home quickly. The kidnapper just called, saying he will call again in an hour's time because Joe's not here when he did earlier. Joe's on his way… you should be here too."


	10. Chapter 9 Contact

Chapter Nine

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

The little girl sat opposite him, bounded to the wooden, rickety chair. He was actually pretty impressed by her- defiant, flashing blue eyes glared at him, following his every move. Now that he had the itchy blond wig off his bald scalp, he had morphed into someone else- an executioner. His face was hidden by a black hood, revealing only his eyes and his nose. Many children he captured before had quivered in fear at the mere sight of him- gazing up at him with imploring, tearing eyes.

This one was different. Her eyes followed his every move as if she was challenging him to do something. Of course he would not- they were kindred spirits. If only she knew what her parents had wanted to do initially. But she didn't of course. Maybe he should be the bearer of truth- he loved seeing the light of innocence, the complete trust in their parents, crumbling and shadowed over right before his eyes. Yes, truth hurts. But everyone had to know.

"You're not going to eat?" He asked her, nodding at the bowl of cereal before her on the rotting table. Childish anger radiated from within her as she shook her pretty head vehemently- blond, sweaty curls hitting the sides of her face as she did.

"Not going to talk?"

Again the same act of insolence. Rosebud lips pouted tightly, refusing words to escape. Had he have a sense of humor, he might actually see her turning purple.

"I'm bringing a friend to you. You like to have a friend?"

"NO!" Her shrilling voice finally rang out. The first time he heard the little voice was a few hours ago when she woke up. The instinct in her told her that he was not her daddy and she made sure he knew of her knowledge. His ears were still ringing with the memory of her loud, screaming voice.

He had slapped her hard for hurting his ears. Her rosy right cheek was a little swelled now.

"Hang on. You'll love it." He pushed his chair behind and stood up. She would not be able to see him smirked but maybe, those sharp blue eyes might catch the glint in his eyes. He would have to break this child before he sent her to meet his mother- he didn't want to cause the old lady any grief with a disobedient, spoiled brat.

He lifted the cloth off a cage on the floor with a flourish, like he was a magician unveiling an illusion after a few seconds of prancing around the stage. But unlike a magician, he was not one to lie or deceive to children. He didn't think he was doing them any favors but nor did he think that he was torturing them. He just had to do what he had to do. 

The serpent slithered in its cage, its buff-brown body gracefully coiling up the moment it sensed a change in its surroundings. He smiled- this land was foreign to it but still, it was too beautiful for him to not risk bringing it into his life. Placid and shy, it packed the most venomous bite compared to all its friends and cousins. And it would sink its teeth repeatedly into any predator who dared threaten it. Beady black eyes stared at him but it was trapped within its barred prison- he was the master of its fate.

He always felt like he was actually born with its spirit- unless he was riled, he would not strike, preferring the peace and quiet in which his troubled mind could mind some brief salvation. But no… they would not leave him alone and so he would bite. He would bite until they learn of their horrible mistakes!

Picking up the cage by its top handle, he brought it to the table and slammed it down, agitating his new best friend. It uncoiled itself and hissed- its forked tongue with the original, honeyed deceit, struck out menacingly. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the little girl flinching slightly, her fixated eyes widened in fascination and fear of the innocuously colored snake.

"Her name's Valerie. Maybe you'll like to put your finger in?"

She shot a lethal look at him. "I HATE IT! It's UGLY! WHY DON'T YOU PUT YOUR HEAD IN?"

He threw back his head and laughed though it was without much mirth. The girl amused him-that was all. He hunched over and pressed his palms on the table.

"Listen up, you brat. You eat your cereal or I'll make sure you spend a night with Valerie and let me assure you, you won't wake up. You've just hurt Valerie's feelings and I'm letting you off easy. Now, finish it up!"

"I can't eat! I can't move my hands! And I WANT DADDY! WANT DADDY!"

He decided that her left cheek should match her right. A heavy hand rose in the air and she screamed before it even landed with a loud crack against her tender skin. The force toppled the chair over its side and she crashed down along with it, crying finally as her angry shouts came out in sputters.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOUR UGLEE SNAKE! MY DADDY WILL COME AND BEAT YOU!"

"If he's even still alive, my dear girl. And I told you, do not insult Valerie. If you can't move your hands, then dunk your head in the bowl and eat!" He flexed his biceps, seeing the veins bulging like rivers of royal blood meandering down his skin. Maybe the next time the girl was too noisy for him, he would punch her mouth and rip out her tongue. His mother would appreciate a quiet kid.

"MY DADDY WILL BEAT YOU UNTIL YOU'RE JELLO! I  HATE THE SNAKE! I WILL CHEW ITS HEAD OFF AND SPIT IT IN YOUR FACE! I WILL! I WILL!"

For once, he contemplated defying the other's wish and kill the brat prematurely. Narrowing his eyes, fighting back the temptation, he left the ramshackle cabin and went to take the necessary equipment from his car to prepare for the upcoming contact.

_Maybe the girl would starve to death first._

_Yes. That would be a very nice fate for a brat._

***

Joe paced up and down the homely living room which belied the many troubled minds it housed inside. If he was not driving himself mad, he was sure harassing his parents' sanity with his repetitive walk. Laura stood up from the couch finally and grabbed his hand. He stopped in mid-stride, unable to calm himself down but trying hard to, just for her sake.

"Sit down, baby. He'll call and when he does, he will make a mistake and we will get him. He already made a mistake, picking on Hallie." Laura's eyes shone with determination and quiet strength, infusing his veins with a mild surge of hope. His family, standing in solidarity with him against this monster, was his rock and for a moment, he almost believed Laura.

Almost.

"Thanks mom. But… I can't… we're just waiting and waiting…"

"Sit down. We're waiting but we're waiting together." Laura led him to the sofa and passed a cup of water on the coffee table over to him. Fenton and two of Chief Collig's men had just finished rigging up a call tracer and recorder in. Right then, Joe just wanted to run up to all guys wearing size twelve shoes and interrogate them about Hallie's disappearance.

"Mom, dad…" Frank stepped through the open front door with Elle in tow. "Joe…"

"One hour's almost up." Chief Collig glanced up at the clock and stood up to join the family, patting his men on the shoulders. "Get the guy."

Joe hunched over with his hands clasped together and pressed against his lips, staring the phone expectantly. Frank stood in front of him and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Joe. At least he's communicating, no longer just a figureless, formless shadow we are chasing…"

"I know. I'm trying not to worry. And he's still figureless, not like we know how he looks like!" Joe hissed sharply. Shaking his head, he looked up at Frank's concerned deep brown eyes shimmering with too much understanding to be hurt by his ungratefulness. "I'm sorry, bro… it's difficult." 

Frank patted his head. "I know, kiddo."

"A kiddo with a missing kid." Joe let out a small laugh, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "How ironical."

Elle sat down on the adjacent two-seater and even though she said nothing, her slight smile too gave him some assurance. There was a knock on the door next and Joe cocked his head to see who it could be. All those involved were present already.

Laura answered the door and there Vanessa was, with Greg holding on to her. "The man called?"

"Not yet… come in." Laura ushered the couple in. Elle, seeing Vanessa for the first time, instantly knew who she was and stood up immediately, offering the two-seater to her and Greg. Vanessa accepted with a strain smile, avoiding Joe's eyes. Greg drew his wife close, keeping a wary eye on Joe simultaneously. Joe turned away, swallowing the natural anger in him that would augment each time he saw them.

The phone rang and instantaneously, a hushed, tensed silence descended upon everyone in the house. Chief Collig looked up at his men over in the dining room who gave him a ready signal and then motioned for Joe to take the call. With his hands trembling more than he would like, Joe picked up the receiver and spoke evenly into the phone.

"Yes?"

A digitalized voice laughed, alternating between a guttural growl and a high-pitched shrill. "Joe Hardy! Finally! How wonderful it is to hear your voice!" 

"Where's Hallie?"

"Hmm… interesting that you should ask… I have silenced her…"

Joe's heart raced with impending doom- silenced. How do you silence a person? Kill them and forever seal their lips.

"If Hallie's dead… I swear… you'll soon be too…" Joe whispered, squeezing the receiver and wishing it was the man's neck. A cluck of tongue mocked his turmoil.

"I have silenced her for a while. You should let people complete their sentences, it's rude to interrupt. Didn't your mother teach you? I hate to be giving free, moral lessons to a twenty-four year old."

"You know me! Who are you? What do you want? Come get me if I'm the one you want, why take Hallie?" 

"You're the one I want? You flatter yourself too much! Why would I want to hurt you? You have done nothing to me…"

"Then why? I'll give you anything… let Hallie go!" Joe pleaded, unable to comprehend the kidnapper's intentions. The cyclone of emotions whirling his mind in a chaotic swirl was overbearing but he controlled himself knowing Hallie's life depended on his composure now.

"Anything?" The man asked incredulously, his voice now childlike and in its digital innocence, sounded even more menacing and empty- defiling the human symbol of pure goodness. "Everyone's offering something but nothing that I want. I wanted to shed my old skin and become new again, living my life peacefully but everyone just want to anger me, forcing me to strike! And I will strike again and again just to show you the poison I have in me for all of your kind! My venom of the most lethal kind will course through your veins. Through Hallie, you'll feel the paralysis of your soul and as you struggle for breath, you'll only inhale fire. You'll feel my hatred and hear my two-forked tongue slithering in your mind every tedious night of your life for you're one of them! I despise you! Hallie will despise you too! You don't deserve Hallie!" The voice changed now to a celestial, ethereal tinker. "You wanted to kill her in the first place." 

"I didn't!"

"But you had the intention! It's the same…" The digitalized voice grew hollow and wholly evil, crackling like the maniacal glee of a wicked witch howling curses over a simmering cauldron.  "How do you think she will feel if I tell her daddy and mommy wanted to kill her before she was even born?"

Joe clenched his fists. "Don't you dare hurt Hallie in any way… if you do, they won't even recognize your DNA when I'm done with you!"

"Tsk, tsk…" The man clucked his tongue again. "Empty vessels make the most noise, don't you think? Where are you now? At home. Where am I now? You don't know! So, you're in no position to threaten me."

"I'll give you my life! My life for Hallie's! Whatever your motives are, your fight's with me! I'm the one who angered you! I'm the one you despised! Not her! She's innocent!" Joe urged for the man to relent- bleeding pleas from his heart. But it was a hopeless appeal for he knew, with the sinking realization, that the man was not interested in bartering, negotiating or holding Hallie for a ransom. The man was a psychopath with its own unfathomable agenda and he was only concerned with carving Joe's downfall with each and every of spoken line of his cryptic intentions.

"Hallie's going to a good place and you'll have time to think about what sort of person you are." The man let out a chuckle that echoed into Joe's ears like the evil laughter of the devil. When he spoke next, his voice morphed into that of the androgynous child. 

"Goodbye, daddy." 

Childlike laughter rang out. The call disconnected even before laughter stopped.

"COME BACK HERE YOU FREAK! I'LL FIND YOU! AND I'LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES WITH MY BARE HANDS! I WILL! YOU TOUCH HALLIE AND I'LL KILL YOU! YOU'LL BE BEGGING FOR MERCY AND I WON'T SHOW YOU ANY! I WON'T!"

"Joe…" Frank spoke gently.

"YOU HEAR ME YOU PSYCHO? COWARD!" Joe saw only the color red and Hallie's face in his eyes. He saw a monster with horns laughing into his face, standing in between him and Hallie. He tried to reach for her but couldn't. Hallie was screaming, screaming for him.

_"Daddy! Save me! Daddy!"_

"COME BACK HERE, BASTARD! I SAID…" The phone was pulled away from his hand. Someone knelt before him- grey eyes gazed tenderly into his own.

"Joe…" She whispered comfortingly. Why did she know how to calm him down only now? "She'll be fine… we'll get through this…"

"Ness… I'm sorry… he doesn't even want my life for Hallie's. I don't know what he wants… I…"  He sputtered helplessly. "I don't know where she is…"

"It's ok… she'll be back. Have faith in yourself, your brother and your father. Have faith in Hallie. She'll be back. Our daughter will come back." She pushed back his sweat damped hair and if he was aware of those around him, he would see that they did not necessary approve of what Vanessa was doing but left her to comfort him because it was obviously working.

And he might see Greg narrowing his eyes at him with venom- jealousy raging in his green eyes like a storm gathering over the choppy emerald sea.

But he didn't see all those. He would know later through Frank but right then, Joe could only see Hallie in his mind and Vanessa's beautiful face before him. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, embracing her as if his life depended on it and burying his face in her soft, ash blond hair.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Homecoming

Itsmeocean@hotmail.com

"Did we get anything?" Frank asked a policeman who had his headphone off. Joe was still immobilized on the couch but instead of Vanessa, who had returned to her quietly piqued husband's side, Elle had taken position next to him, keeping silent while placing a sanitized hand on his thigh. Vanessa and Greg argued in hushed whispers.

_Looks like someone's not pleased by his wife's show of concern for her ex-husband._ Frank noted silently to himself with a slight frown- he did not exactly approve of what Vanessa did as well. 

The policeman, just a couple of years older than Frank with curly black hair trapping dust on top of his head, shook his head.  When he did so, Frank changed his mind. It wasn't dust. The man was suffering from a bad case of dandruff.

"No… we couldn't trace the call, make that, it can't be trace. Most likely, it's from a pre-paid SIM card. There's no way we can nab down the exact location of a pre-paid SIM card or find out who's the buyer."

Chief Collig stretched his lips thinly. "Sorry Fenton. Maybe we can run the tape on the audio analyzer. See if we can come up with anything."

"I think that'll be a good idea. I thought I heard some background noises but I can't be sure. Dad, can we use yours in the study?" Frank asked immediately, not wanting Chief Collig to leave with the precious bit of evidence because he knew once it was in the hands of the police, it would take a long time before he could _informally retrieve it for further investigation._

Owing to the nature of the case, Chief Collig relented after taking one look at Joe's shell-shocked anger which was only slowly leaving his tortured features. 

"Yes, of course. Let's go see what we can find."

"Joe? Coming?" Frank went over to his brother and gently shook his shoulders. "Hey…"

Joe looked up at Frank and his features relaxed. "Huh? Oh… of course. We'll get something from there, right?"

"Yes, we will. C'mon." Frank stretched out a hand which Joe took gratefully. Elle stood up as well. "Vanessa, Greg… there's too many people going up so…"

"It's ok. We understand. We'll wait here." Vanessa looked away from her fuming husband and, with begging eyes, almost pleaded with Frank. "Come back with something, anything."

Frank smiled grimly, not wanting to promise anyone anything. He was not being pessimistic but he just hated to bring up hopes only to send them tumbling down when he could not deliver. 

Moments later, he, Joe, Elle, Fenton and Chief Collig had gathered in Fenton's impressive study. Fenton slipped the tape into the player while Frank started the computer and called out the audio analyzing software before slipping the headphones over his ears. He didn't even bother sitting down on the leather armchair- somehow, when he was working standing up, he seemed to think better. 

As the conversation played through once, giving Frank a sense of what he needed to look out for, it was recorded into the computer, ready for analysis. Frank, at that moment, was grateful that he had convinced Fenton to invest in some investigative software and actually taught his dad how to fiddle around with them. This powerful, custom-made software which he employed Phil to program for him was never needed until now. While it was residing in Fenton's hard disk like a white elephant and probably costing like one too, Frank often had to bear with his father's grumbles about how an acute mind and sharp senses were all that were needed to solve a case. Nonetheless, Fenton was the most up-to-date private investigator of his era that Frank ever knew and took his father's grouses with a huge pinch of salt.

"I hear some rumbling here." Frank adjusted some frequencies after which he scrolled the toolbar to-and-fro over a certain range. "Most likely, it's a train."

"A train? Are you positive?" Fenton asked.

Frank fiddled around with the functions and nodded positively. "Yes… it is a train, definitely. But it sounded far away. There's more." He concentrated now on another portion, the part when the man spoke about striking again and again. Now that he heard for himself what Joe had to listen to, he could comprehend how his brother almost had a nervous breakdown. He would as well. An undulating chilling sensation ran down his spine with each change of tone the kidnapper used and when he bade farewell to Joe in that childish manner, Frank winced with phantom pain as his stomach knotted up in several twists.

"A faint hissing sound. Like a snake, iguana, some giant lizard… I'll go with snake from how the man described himself. Strike. Paralysis. Fork tongue. Venom." Frank slipped the earphones off. "I have a friend who studies reptiles. He could shed light on the description the man used when talking about himself and narrow down to some species for us. Maybe we can generate a list of collectors or something and compare them with whatever we know."

"Hissing. Snake. Yah, that's the right kind of pet for the devil!" Joe barked. "I'll skin that snake alive and feed it to dogs."

"Joe…" Elle cautioned, placing a hand on Joe's shoulder. Frank wondered if Joe was sick of people doing that to him. "What else, Frank?"

"No… nothing much of interest though I'm surprised that he knows so much about Joe's history with Vanessa. How did he know about the fact that they wanted to abort the child in the first place?"

"You mean abort Hallie, Frank. Don't mince words. He's right. The intention… I'm a lousy father…" Joe tugged at his collar. "It's really hot in here."

"You didn't, Joe. Besides… the two of you were young, rash and helpless…"

"Let's not talk about that, bro. Train… the phone call came around one-thirty. We can check with the Bayport Train Terminal… see if there're any trains that were supposed to call at the station around that time." Joe stood up and walked over the phone, punching in the numbers for the Train Terminal.

Or at least the number he thought belonged to it.

"Joe, they changed their numbers after moving the station to Lower End."

"Oh…" Joe was momentarily stunned by his father's interruption. He held on to the receiver still, unsure of what to do. The helplessness rounding his mouth in a small 'O', making him look fourteen instead of twenty-four, broke just about everybody's heart in the room, at least, Frank knew his was twisted up achingly. He made his way to Joe at the side table and gripped his brother's shoulders firmly. 

"Why don't I do it?"

"Ok…" Joe shrugged away the contact. "Whatever."

Frank watched his brother stumbling gawkily back to the couch in the study worriedly. The phone call had definitely pushed all the right buttons to get Joe all riled up and now, without the anger to mask his fear, Joe was falling into a very vulnerable state of losing all hope. He had to remind Joe that they had clues to work with and evidence often told the story better than most.

"Hello. Is this Bayport Train Terminal? I'll like to know if there's a train that's supposed to be call in at around one-thirty?... There's one that called in just only at one-forty eight? Thank you very much." Frank put the receiver down just as the woman was about to tell him where the train was calling from. Fenton Hardy had already took out the map of Bayport and spread it out on his study table after hurriedly clearing it of all his criminology books and notes scattered all over the top.

"One-forty eight. The train was about fifteen minutes away from the station when it passed by near to where the kidnapper was. The average speed of our train is about 100mph." Fenton punched some numbers into the gigantic calculator on his table and then pointed at a spot on the map somewhere in the middle of the forest which bordered Bayport and Port City to the west.

"I'm calling to get an overhead view…" Chief Collig informed them while his right ear was already plastered to his mobile. 

"Frank, remember the cabin down at the water hole in the forest? We used to hike there with the gang in summer for a swim. There's this rotting, abandoned cabin hidden behind the trees… do you think he could be holding Hallie there?" Joe, having snapped out of his trance-like state, was once again in clear faculties. Frank stared at the map, letting intuition and estimation guide him before nodding.

"Yes. That shack should be around the area."

Joe looked at all them with crazed, hopeful eyes. "What are we waiting for? Let's move it!"

Elle stood up and pursed her lips. "You guys go ahead. I think I'll rather check out the footprints. And the snake lead plus how he knew about Joe and Vanessa's history should be more fruitful, though I can't imagine how."

"Elle, the case is solved! We know where Hallie is…" Joe stared at her incredulously only to be met with skeptical eyes. Frank had a hunch that Elle had arrived at one of the conclusions he had- that the man was just fooling around with them, stringing them along like they were puppets. That all the evidence they found so far were planted deliberately by the man.

But he had to have hope- if only for Joe and Hallie's sake.

"I want to be as optimistic as you guys but think about it. This guy is someone who went through great lengths to mask his identity. His prints were obviously burned off so we cannot do an AFIS match.  He digitalized his voice so we cannot do a voice match as well and I don't think he'll be so careless as to let the sound of a train blow his hideout- I think if you guys call the station to ask if there was a train calling in about the same time as when the kidnapper called the first time round but couldn't get Joe, the answer will be yes. He's most probably leading us on a leash, knowing we'll be looking out for these indications and having a great time imagining us running to the place to find him. He's probably already gone. Maybe he isn't even there in the first place. I'm having doubts about the shoe prints too but I made a call to the airlines earlier to reserve a few tickets to LA while you were all going gaga over the conversation. I take it that I'll be going alone, though."

Frank kept silent- looking at Elle from a different view. While he could find comfort and triumph in supporting views from kindred minds in ordinary times, having someone second his ideas in this instance was actually disturbing for, if what he thought was true, then Joe's wild hope would be dash and there would no telling how Joe would react.

In addition, it would make the case more complicated and Hallie much more difficult to find- taking a longer time and time was definitely not on their side.

The two older men in the room stared at her with some disbelief but Fenton's seasoned detective senses probably heard quite a lot of validation in what Elle had said. 

Joe was not as stubborn as he had thought as well. Instead of cajoling Elle, his kid brother actually nodded. "Go, Elle. I don't think you can reach there in time to do much but you can have some head start in case we… we don't succeed."

Frank smiled at her sincerely, making eye contact with those burning hazel orbs. "Don't take this wrong way- I'm glad you thought of it. But I'm hoping that you're wrong and the guy's just an amateur at this cop and psycho game."

"Psycho…" Elle clucked her tongue, exchanging a look with Joe. Joe chuckled mirthlessly at the silent message exchanged fleetingly between the both of them.

"Go, Psycho. I'm crossing my fingers that you're wrong too… but I'm trying to be calm here. If we are wrong, at least you'll be LA with some clues about how we can proceed. Damage control."

Elle lifted her shoulders in a half-shrugged before embracing her partner lightly. "For your sake, I'm letting my ego crumble and hoping with all my heart, I'm mistaken." She leaned over and whispered something into Joe's ear that Frank could not catch. For the first time, after she pulled away, Frank saw a smile on the ice-princess face lifted to give comfort as she patted Joe's shoulder.

"The helicopter and our squad team are on their way." Chief Collig looked up from his cell phone. "Let's go."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

The forest bordering haphazardly on the fringe of Bayport was quiet save the sonorous orchestra of insects, the scurrying movements of quick, small animals and the hurried footsteps aided by adrenaline to save his little girl. It was humid and hot with the dense vapors misting up Joe's sight, such that at times, his vision tottered and it seemed like he was walking in the dancing image of a mirage- a nightmarish mirage. 

_My venom of the most lethal kind will course through your veins. Through Hallie, you'll feel the paralysis of your soul and as you struggle for breath, you'll only inhale fire._

They had taken an hour to drive to the forest and another half-an-hour to hike through the gathering trees to reach the spot. Joe was never more aware of time passing by him than now- time was the nemesis that he knew he was fighting against in vain. If only he could conquer time, he would make it take him back to the past so he could prevent this tragedy from ever happening.

Now, all he could hope for was that he was racing almost neck to neck with the timing of the kidnapper- that he would catch the fiend before he decided to end Hallie's life.

The downpour had stopped but the ground was still soggy and the aftermath of the rain just made the dense forest air thicker. As they ventured deeper into the forest towards the water hole where the cabin was hiding behind a short distance away, the forest grew denser and darker even. If the brothers had not been familiar with the trail, the trees,- all stretching themselves thin and tall to capture as much life-giving sunlight as they could- looking alike in all directions, would have sent them into a terrible state of disorientation. Seven years he had left and plenty had changed in Bayport but the forest remained the same. Joe could hike the trail without his sight.

However, right now, he was not so sure. There was a sense of urgency clutching at his chest and the huddling trees only caused him more claustrophobia. He needed his open space and he knew Hallie did so too. He was going to bring her back out into freedom finally.

_You'll feel my hatred and hear my two-forked tongue slithering in your mind every tedious night of your life for you're one of them!___

Finally. She was missing for much too long. It only took a split second to end someone's life- to extinguish a flame from a vast spread of candles. And the gust of wind that snuffed out the flame it was aiming at would not just devour that one, flickering light. It would douse out the lives of many other flames surrounding it as well.

_"Goodbye, daddy." _

Joe shook the malevolent voice away from his mind. Frank, ahead of him and his father, pointed the way forward. They had passed the water hole. Slightly beyond, the decrepit cabin was peeking out from behind a cluster of trees and shrubs. It was a dilapidated, sorry sight and Joe was almost worried that it would crumble under the pressure of the several anxious hearts present and crush Hallie under its falling planks.

The squad team was already in front of all of them. Bayport's finest took position, a disciplined sea of blue, ready to fire at any sign of danger. A helicopter hovered above them; the rotating shadows from its blades sliced through the cabin, causing it to flash before their eyes like a legendary haunted house.

Chief Collig took the loud hailer from one of his men. "Has he come out yet?"

"No… there's no sign of anything or anyone." The officer shrugged with some puzzlement. Joe calmed himself down as his heart pounded rapidly with remembrance of Elle's analysis.

_ No, it seemed like there was no one because the hut looked so forlorn- yes, that must be it. Hallie must be inside._

The veteran police narrowed his eyes contemplatively, probably recalling what Elle had said, just like Joe had. Joe could almost hear the Chief's silent thoughts which were mirrored from his own mind. What if the man was just playing with them like a cat taunting a mouse? Strumming the leading chords of the song that they were forced to sing along? Joe could not let it come true- he would die first and take the villain along with him.

"WE ARE NOT GOING TO HURT YOU. COME OUT NOW WITH THE GIRL. WE PROMISE TO BE LENIENT. LET THE GIRL GO. WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED, THERE'S NO WHERE YOU CAN RUN TO."

No one came out. The cabin stood there still, mocking at them contemptuously.

Joe could not stand the wait anymore. That was all they ever do against psychopaths- wait and wait until someone could ravel the warped logic and motives dictating the actions of those madmen bent on destruction.  He left his brother's side and crept away towards a small, hidden trail near where they were. The trail, better hidden than the first one they followed, would take him to the back of the cabin. Joe had noticed that the policemen did not circle the back, most probably because they knew there was no back exit.

Frank spotted him right after the sounds made when the some dried leaves and twigs crunched under Joe's feet.

"What do you think you're doing? You're jeopardizing the mission!" His brother hissed, stealthily slipping up behind him with fierce, glaring eyes.

"Yah. We can wait outside until he comes up holding Hallie's decapitated head by the hair. Is that what you want, Frank?" Joe retorted harshly, unfazed by Frank's stern caution. 

Frank shook his head, his gaze softening.  "You watch too much B-grade horror movies, Joe. And now, I have to watch your back, like usual."

"I know I can count on you. We go round the back… here, this way. The squad team cannot see us… they are all training their eyes on the front of the cabin." Joe pushed some branches away to reveal the obscure trail. "It'll bring us to the back of the cabin."

"I know. Lead on, kiddo." 

It was a roundabout way but it served its purpose. Joe figured that the man would be looking towards the direction of Chief's voice. A pair of half-unhinged window shutters provided a small gap for Joe to peer into and he stealthily crept up to it and peeked into the cabin.

It was dustily dark inside and most of its pitiful amount of light was streamed in from a hole in the roof, illuminating the conical dance of dust specks. However, Joe eyes could see through the dimmed space well enough and his sight ascertained what the morbid part of him was already expecting.

"No… no… NO!!!!"

"Joe, what's wrong?" Frank grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around; deep brown eyes that darkened into frantic black orbs searched his own for the answer. His cries had alerted the police as well and many of them were already shuffling closer to the cabin.

"It's empty! The cabin's empty! There's a chair… some rope… but it's empty! FRANK! HALLIE'S NOT HERE! NOT HERE!"

"Joe… calm down!"

"HALLIE!" Anxiety surged through him like a shock of massive electrical currents. He punched the shutters and they crumbled like dust to the ground. Hefting himself over the window to the inside, his feet touched the damped wooden planks as a few policemen kicked open the front door in response to the commotion.

On the chair was a sign with a big, smiley face poster, splashed with the word "Gotcha" in huge, red letterings across. Frustration and a strange sense of betrayal gripped his chest and he grabbed the poster, ripping it to unrecognizable pieces.

"Damn you! Damn your stupid games! Whoever you are, GO TO HELL!"

"Joe!"

"DAMN YOU!" Losing all control, Joe picked up the chair and smashed it to smithereens onto the ground. "PICKING ON MY DAUGHTER! COME AND PICK ON ME IF YOU DARE!"

"JOE!" Frank tried to lock his arms behind him but he roughly pushed his brother's grip away, sending Frank stumbling back. Before the police could restrain him, Joe pushed past them and dashed out of the front door.

"I HATE YOU!" 

Had the policemen inside not given the signal that the abductor was not in, he could be mistaken as the villain and get shot. "COME GET ME! COWARD! LEAVE HALLIE ALONE! COME GET ME! KILL ME IF YOU WANT!" 

He screamed futilely into the silence of the forest, scaring the human beings and the scuttling small animals. But the message would never reach the ears of the monster he so wanted to kick in the face then. The message would never be heard by the one who was supposed to be cowering in fear at the wrath of an angered father. 

"COME GET ME! I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE! RIGHT HERE!" Joe stood still, lost to his own mania, ignoring the gathering footsteps around him. He ripped off his shirt and stretched out his hands as a defiant challenge to whatever evil out there in exchange for his daughter's life as he stared right up into the burning sun, scrounging his eyes in aggravation. 

"COME FOR ME IF YOU DARE!" He pounded his left breast. "SHOOT ME RIGHT HERE IF YOU CAN!"

"Joe… calm down…" Frank voice sounded distant- like the voice of sanity that was so far away.

"LEAVE HALLIE ALONE!" Joe yelled hoarsely, his strength ebbing away with each agonizing burst of frenzied anger and anxiety. The lining of his throat grew thinner with each raw shout and now, Joe's screams came out in raspy, angry sputters. "Just… leave Hallie alone!"

Someone grabbed him from behind. His brother? Joe was only aware of the overcast treetops laughing at his useless efforts. Sinking down to his knees, he buried his face in his hands.

All that could be heard were some clucking of tongues, barking commands into the cackling walkie-talkies and the low, hushed conversations expressing concern and lost hope- articulating the useless pities. And one sound, though the softest, was the most piercing and heartbreaking.

The loudest sound not in volume but in dire spirits- a father's moan that rose from the pits of despair for a daughter who was still lost to him.

_Goodbye Daddy!_

**_"Leave Hallie alone..."_**


	13. 12

Chapter 12

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Frank stood by the entrance to their house. The sweat which plastered his T-shirt to his back was making him suffer from the prickling, summer's itch. The door had already swung close after Fenton gone in with Chief Collig. Most likely, his father would be the bearer of terrible tidings to their mother, Vanessa and Greg. He could see it in his mind now, how Fenton would sit beside the distressed mother, holding her slender hand in his large, strong but rather wrinkled ones, and break the news with a stoic face and steady voice. Then Vanessa would collapse into Greg's embrace while Laura would try to put on a brave front which would be betrayed by trembling lips and watery eyes. And Fenton would go forward and hold her and the two women would cry.

He had witnessed similar scenes before. During two of the 'missing persons' cases which he accompanied his dad on, the subject they were asked to find by anxious family members turned out dead. And it was in this manner which Fenton broke the news. But they never got too emotional- a flaw or a blessing, Frank would never know. All he knew was he could become jaded. With a solemn tip of their hats, they would leave the families to their grief.

And move on to the next case- the next person who needed their help. Every time a death occurred, they would send a wreath and a card to offer condolences. For closer clients, they would even attend the funeral.

Frank had learned how to handle such consequences but he knew Joe would never be able to just detach himself away from cases after they were closed. But he also knew that Hallie would not be a missing person whose death he could stomach and Joe, already too easily involved emotionally with the cases they took on in the past together, may just turn berserk.

"Aren't you going to come in?"

"No. Not yet. She'll be crying." Joe leaned against Frank's Lexus and stared dismally at the ground. "I can't bear to…" He flipped his fringe which lazily curtained half his over his forehead eyes- sweat and an earlier downpour which did spread to the forest, thankfully, had matted down those rebelling spikes.

Slowly, Frank made his way to his kid brother, searching for some words of comfort but none would come visit his tongue. He needed to hear them himself- to believe in them and to piece together the shredded canvas of hope. Perhaps it was really in giving that he received for as he draped a reassuringly arm across his brother's quivering shoulders, he felt a little calmer too. But it was not the peace of mind that everything would be all right- no. Frank would keep his hope but he would not succumb to delusions. It was the collectedness he needed to still his heart so his mind could work properly.

"…to see her cry." Joe whispered achingly before looking up with muted blue eyes seeking quietly for unquestioning understanding. "Can you just stay here with me for a while, big bro?"

Frank squeezed his shoulder and nodded silently. When no words could be spoken, Frank could offer the companionship of mere presence.

Which, in such trying moments, might be the best gift he could present to his kid brother.

***

_The clock ticked._

_They have been gone far too long and there was still no call. She knew where the water hole was as well. She had wanted to follow but they thought that it could get dangerous. Bluntly put, they figured that they would have more chance trying to save one rather than two lives. The depths of a mother's anxiety and anguish kept her pride from being bruised- there just wasn't time and energy for self-wallowing and she didn't want to delay the mission. So there she was, in the Hardys' living room with her husband holding on to her, giving her support- of not emotional then physical. He had, thankfully, understood enough to not pursue her show of concern for her ex- husband. Whatever it was, she couldn't handle such petty arguments and he would be less of a man if he put her through such ordeals. She had not known where she found the strength to offer her estranged ex comfort when she badly needed some herself._

_At that moment, she and Joe were kindred spirits. The only comfort they wanted could not be found in kind words or sympathetic eyes. What could soothe their frayed nerves and lift their crushed spirits was having Hallie wrapped in their arms alive, warm and ever so playful._

_The clock ticked._

**_The trip will take at least an hour and a half. Then there's the rescuing to be done. And the return trip._**

****

**_But… but it's already four odd hours. Surely they would have called if Hallie's safe…_**

****

**_Did something go wrong? A gun fight? Is Hallie shot? Killed? _**

****

**_Why didn't they call?_**

****

**_No! Good thoughts. Good thoughts._**

_She clasped her hands together in a silent, perpetual prayer. Over and over again she beseeched God to keep her daughter safe. Waiting by the phone was the most tormenting task she had ever undertaken. Perhaps she had been too cool, too collected but it was the only way she knew of how to deal with the heart-wrenching mix of emotions churning in the pits of the stomach. She had believed that no one would be so perverse such they would want to hurt a little girl whose eyes simply radiated with so much innocence and goodness- a child through and through._

_She had hoped that Hallie had simply wandered lost and was found when Chief Collig called her earlier to ask her to congregate at the Tudor-styled house. But the sinister phone call spoke volumes about the dire straits her daughter was in. Her eyelids were so heavy as she did not sleep a wink at all last night but even with the daunting weight of lethargy, she could not close them for more than a second. Her guilt, anxiousness and frustration kept her up, causing her to teeter along in a nightmarish patchwork of fear-conjured images. After the phone call, whatever she had dreamt of last night while her eyes were opened was tamed in comparison._

_The clock ticked._

_Greg squeezed her shoulder. Her forehead throbbed and she could not think properly anymore. Laura, in the kitchen fixing some drinks, worrying for not only her granddaughter but also all three men in her life, was still a pillar of strength. Such stoic courage, Vanessa knew, could only be borne out of her harrowing experiences as the wife of a self-sacrificing private detective and now, mother of two investigators who had no qualms risking their lives to save others. The older lady emerged from the kitchen with not a hair out of place and a smile on her slightly trembling lips. She placed two cups of spicy, pungent tea on the coffee table._

_"Ginger tea. It'll calm your nerves." Laura soft eyes hooded with understanding and there was no judgment at all. She rubbed Vanessa's hands reassuringly. "Especially you. Your hands are so cold."_

_"Thanks." She squeaked, almost bursting into tears. The clock's second hand was sluggish in its movements. Time seemed to be slowly losing energy and drawing close to a standstill. The men were not back yet- her baby was not by her side yet. No calls. Nothing._

**_Nothing._**

_Laura gave her hands a final squeeze and it was with that sudden pressure that she was shocked back to reality. Vanessa saw Laura smiling kindly at Greg and vaguely heard her say, "Your wife's a very brave woman."_

_"I know…" There was an element of poignant pride in Greg's smooth, velvety voice. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry but we're all worried here. Is Fenton the sort who will wait until he comes home before breaking any news, good or bad?"_

_"No… he isn't." Laura stammered a little but she could not lie to them, to herself, even at this time. Her crestfallen mien lifted up in a hopeful smile almost instantly though. "But we must have faith. Maybe… maybe Hallie's found and they've forgotten there are three worrywarts back here in their elation. Come, drink the tea." Laura cajoled them weakly and moved away to sit in the middle of the long couch. Strength and courage were receding fast from her. Downcast blue eyes stared at somewhere faraway and anxiety twitched the corners of her lips uncontrollably. As Vanessa watch Laura sinking in the couch, her two hands grasping the hot mug of tea as if she was gathering comfort from its warmth, she knew, with a plummeting gut, that Fenton Hardy would never forget to call his wife, no matter how happy he was._

_And even if they would all forget, Joe would not. No matter how rough the friction between the both of them, Joe would never give her any cause for worry if he could help it._

_The clock ticked._

_Greg tried to get her to drink the tea but she refused, knowing it would only burn down her throat like molten lava. Laying her overwrought mind on his shoulder, a drop of tear seeped down from the side of her left eye, spreading dampness on the material of his atypically rumpled shirt._

_The door creaked open after another prolonged wait. The sky had taken on its purplish pink hue in its transition phase between day and night. A wearied Fenton trudged in followed by an apologetic Chief Collig close behind. They did not even have to say anything; their expressions spoke the truth about the failure of the rescue operation._

_The clock ticked._

_Fenton shook his head at Laura dejectedly but still with that dignity that came with wisdom. Vanessa sat up, watching his every movement with fixated eyes begging him to break some news most contrary to his expression._

**_Hallie… baby… You're outside, aren't you? Tell mommy it's just a prank… please…_**

_He stood in front of her and leaned over, taking her shivering hands into his. "__Ness_, I want you to be strong. We can't find Hallie but we have other means of tracking the kidnapper out…"__

_Greg held her tighter as if he as afraid her quavering frame would fly into bloody pieces right before everyone's eyes. He had always treated Hallie like she was his own, taught her to play baseball, taught her to swim and spent nights reading to her with the patience of still waters under the onslaught of her incessant questionings. Vanessa could feel his heart pounding faster and harder against her body._

**_We can't find Hallie._**

****

_Then she couldn't feel nor hear anything anymore. All that was being repeated in her mind was Fenton's low, fatherly voice telling her what she did not want to hear. His composure had cracked when he began, his voice breaking at some parts._

**_We can't find Hallie._**

The clock stopped ticking.


	14. 13

Homecoming Chapter 13

itsmeocean@hotmai.com

Frank watched the black Porsche roll away from the driveway. Vanessa had been a wreck and did not notice the two brothers lingering by the Lexus as her husband led her gently into their sports car. Frank stole a glance at Joe- Joe wasn't even lifting up his head to look at Vanessa.

"Now we can go in." Joe muttered, walking away from Frank with his hands shoved in his pockets and head hung low. Even his unsteady gait was slow and tedious. Frank tagged behind, ready to catch Joe if he fell.

_If the kidnapper kills Hallie before we can get to them, what will become of Joe?_

_What will become of all of us?_

Dismissing the soul-draining thought away to the dusty attic in his mind, Frank noted with grim pride that with each step, Joe was walking straighter and with more resolute. Maybe Joe just wanted to wallow for a while but he was resilient enough to pick himself up. His brother was strong- he was a Hardy after all. Strength was their family's inherent trademark as promised by their shared last name.

The somber note in the house was grating on the ears but no one would think it apt to dispel it with some good cheer. Frank guided Joe by the shoulders up to his father's study when his mother pointed towards the stairs silently, dabbing at her eyes with some tissue, trying hard to smile a little. The two of them trudged up the stairs which, after a few steps, Joe turned around, his mien carved from concrete.

"There'll be something good with work with." The sepulchral voice imbued with a hidden threat for the kidnapper chilled Frank into silence. Joe sounded like he was convincing himself more than trying to assure Frank. However, all Frank could do was nod and Joe spun around before abruptly sprinting up the stairs, as if he could not wait to get into action again.

_Sudden change. Is this the way he deals with his frustration? Turn it into constructive actions? Then it's good, isn't it?_

_And if it's good, why am I feeling so disturbed? _

They stepped inside the study where Fenton and Chief were sitting on opposite sides of the sturdy, ornate desk, engaged in a low conversation. His father looked up with fatigued eyes the moment he heard his sons foot falls.

"Take a seat. We have much to talk about and decide upon."

"Thanks." Joe replied politely like Fenton was a stranger asking him to not stand on ceremony. An intensely vacant look was in Joe's gaze, perturbing those present but Frank thought that maybe Joe had somehow shoved his emotions down somewhere and simply let his mind take over on autopilot. Or it could be that he felt everything but just did not want to deal with those gut-twisting emotions until later.

Whatever it was, it was not the right time to analyze about that. They both pulled two spare chairs and sat around the table. Fenton massaged the back of his head for a second before exhaling loudly. "All right. I have a plan which you may or may not want to agree with but here it goes. I'll go down with Chief to talk to the people down at the abortion clinic as well as check out whatever the police managed to comb from the hut. Frank, you may want to contact your friend who studies reptiles to see if they can help. If we're lucky, the man may have cultivated a liking for rare snakes. Collectors of these snakes would be much fewer."

"I'll go to LA to meet up with Elle. She'll need my help." Joe stated blandly. No one was going to argue with that menacing block of heated steel.

"And me." Frank hastily added. "The shoe print is still, I feel, our best lead. I'll just make a call to my friend- he can get me anywhere I am."

"That's it then." Fenton finalized their decisions, a determined look on his face. "Ezra, despite the few times we didn't see eye-to-eye, you have my most grateful thanks for offering so much help and leeway in this investigation."

Chief Collig smiled slightly. "Don't mention it, old friend. I'm a father and a grandfather too. I know how you feel. And any help in arresting this villain is more than appreciated and accepted."

"So…while they're putting their differences aside for Hallie, do you want to know who my friend is?" Frank asked Joe in a low voice, hoping a little informational tidbit would break Joe out of the stony mold.

The sculptured face cracked a little. "Ok. Who?"

"You know him too; in fact, he's a good friend of yours whom you neglected to contact for a long time."

Joe narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "Likes reptiles, a friend of yours and mine…" Those hard eyes rounded in some disbelief, "Biff?"

"Yup. He graduated from the University of Arkansas with a double degree in Biological and Natural Science and is now a full-time field instructor teaching the basic of field science to children and adults at Ozark Natural Science Center. Impressive? Not only that, he also studies reptiles in his free time and could be actually researching for his Masters."

"I always thought his passion's in football…"

"Guess he found his true calling… but he's a warm-blooded reptile lover. Called him once- he said he enjoys teaching the children to love nature."

The serious face that Frank was having a difficult adjusting to broke into a slow smile. "And I know the moral of this little story."

"What? That we have friends who are useful as well?" Frank kidded. Joe shook his head and for a moment, Frank thought Joe was going to come up with something morbid.

"No. The moral of this little story is- not all jocks and blonds are brainless." He tapped at the side of his own head. "And with so many people helping, this one will outsmart the monster."

***

"Callie…" Frank led his fiancé into the house while Joe was waiting for their tickets' confirmation over the phone. She had arrived, all harried and perspiring, a short moment after the family shared a bland meal of smoked ham sandwiches that tasted like soot and ash and swallowed down similarly too.

Callie had rushed all the way to the Hardys' home right after her flight when he told her over the phone, while she was still at the humble, local airport, how the kidnapper pulled a fast one on them. Callie could never leave him in the lurch when she sensed that the situation was dire. He was, in a way, glad that she was there for Joe was maddening everyone by being too unruffled after his worrying breakdown in the forest.

"The cab I took was like a mobile sauna." Callie spoke in rushed whispers and stopped him for a hasty kiss before they entered the living room. The brief contact of intimacy soothed him. Only she knew that he was able to suppress his own feelings of anxiety and inadequacies with a mask of confidence and coolness under fire. And only she knew when these feelings bubbled inside him most uncomfortably.

"So…" She spoke softly in his ears after extricating herself from the much needed embrace. "Is he… well…all right?"

"I don't know… I…"

"Frank! We have to rush to the airport…" Joe scampered down the stairs hurriedly. He skidded to a halt in the front foyer when his eyes met Callie's. "Cal… .Whoa…"

"Joe…. I'm sorry to hear about it…" Callie moved away from Frank and gave Joe a hug. Joe clapped her back absent-mindedly.

"Don't be sorry. We shouldn't be feeling sorry. By the time Hallie's home, the man who took her will be the one sorry." Joe avowed harshly. Pulling away from the hug, he nodded at Frank.

 "Go back and grab the few things you need, bro. We need to be at the airport in two hours time." He curled his lips in distaste. "That's the schedule of the earliest flight they have to LA."

"I hope you booked three tickets." Callie smiled at Joe with the familiar, unshakeable look in her eyes that told Frank that even if the brothers should cage her up somewhere in a steel mesh pen reinforced with a surrounding wall of poured concrete around the circumference on the tallest peak of the Himalayas, she would find a way to follow.

"What?!" And then there was the same, disbelieving reply from Joe. Two stubborn heads would only crash headlong into each other and tempers would flare before they acquiesced that nothing they could do would deter the other from charging in his or her chosen path. Callie would follow them with a proud, haughty look and Joe would walk faster and faster ahead, with a scowl on his face that a 'girl' wanted to do 'guys'' thing.

It had been this way since their childhood. And it would be this way for the rest of their lives, most probably. Frank decided that it was time for him to intercede.

"Callie will follow us. I'll book the extra ticket. Don't you have things to pack too, Joe?"

Joe muttered some intelligible comments under his breath while Callie bristled in the usual annoyance at being slighted just because of her sex. However, Frank was relieved when Joe simply turned around and trotted back up the stairs with a grunt. Frank shrugged at Callie with a half smile and she nodded at the door, indicating to him that they should hurry up. Before they could leave, Joe spun around and wagged a cautionary finger at the couple.

"Only because she's your fiancée."

"Of course." Frank replied smilingly before draping an arm across Callie's shoulders protectively. "And you, lady, stay out of danger."

"I'm only going to make sure you eat proper meals." 

Despite the tensed situation, Frank heard Joe let out a sharp, skeptical laugh before his brother shook his blond head and resumed climbing up the stairs to his room, two big steps at a time.


	15. 14

**Chapter 14**

**Homecoming**

**itsmeocean@hotmail.com**

"So…" Callie spoke smilingly after she sat down on her bed in the room she was sharing with Elle. Actually she would prefer to share a room with Frank but Frank wanted to have some brotherly time with Joe. The trip to LA would have been uneventful if Frank had not been overly obsessed with each and every one of his brother's action- interpreting all his movements as a sign that Joe was about to check into a mental institution soon. However, Callie knew where much of this paranoia that he kept inside stemmed from- seven years was a long time for the brothers to be separated and Frank had quietly admitted that his hands seemed tied when dealing with Joe. He tried to be cool about it but his worst fear came true- sevens years were too long and the emails, occasional phone calls and even rarer snail mails could not reinforce the bonds to help them withstand the test of time.

He felt distanced from Joe. And that to him was one of the biggest blows Fate could ever dish out on him.

_"I know I'll always be there for him, Cal. It's just that I don't know **how** to be there." Frank puffed up his cheeks before exhaling heavily, his eyes fixed on his brother the entire time. Callie spotted some oddity in Joe as well but, rather than seeing them as changes, she thought there were but an evolution of Joe's nature given what he had gone through. And what he was going through now was hopelessly scary- the poor man must have gone bonkers like every parent would when a child of theirs went missing for no apparent rhyme or reason._

_"You think too much. Now, you sleep. I'll wake you when we're about to land." She, with the arm across his shoulders, rubbed the side of his forearm before practically shoving his head to rest onto her shoulder. Frank resisted her efforts and pointed at Joe who was sitting a few seats in front of them on an aisle seat._

_"I think too much? Look at him! Doesn't he seem like a hyperactive nutcase to you one minute and then a stone the next? No… don't just take my word for it. See it for yourself! He was fiddling with his seatbelt, tearing up the newspaper to pieces page by page and now, he's completely still. And the man next to him is staring at him like he's some psycho, probably half-expecting Joe to just stand up and yell, 'Bomb!'"._

_At the articulation of one of the more sensitive words nowadays, a few people turned around and glanced nervously at Frank who was oblivious to all of them, still concentrating on Joe. Callie smiled apologetically at all of the fearful eyes, her cheeks flushing crimson. She patted her fiancé's lap a little too hard on purpose._

_"Frank, calm down. Maybe Joe's all right but you over-analyze all his little quirks. You brother is strong, remember? He releases the tension in him via, well, some funny manners, but after that, it'll be all alright."_

_"Hah! Little quirks!" Those deep-brown eyes intensely pierced into hers, trying to convince her of his convictions. "Now, just look…"_

_"I've look. He's not doing anything…"_

_"Precisely! Joe **never not do ****anything!"**_

_"You need a Valium." Callie sighed but now, as she noted that Joe really had not even moved an single inch for a prolong period, she was getting pretty worried herself. The only time Joe was acting so weird was many years ago when Iola died and he wasn't even half as crazy then as now._

It's probably better too that she and Frank didn't share a room. Frank had half-jokingly added that by not sharing a room, he would be eliminating the temptation on his side to get too intimate with her. They had often board together and never once was the problem of "crossing the line" an issue although there were nights when Frank needed to get out for some time-out. 

"So," Elle repeated, sitting opposite Callie on her bed. She had been cordial after Frank asked her if she would mind sharing a room with Callie when they arrived at the hotel. However, the moment the two ladies were in the prettily clean room, they had not spoken word until now.

"Elle, right?"

"And you're Callie, Frank's fiancée." Elle stated with a vague smile.

Callie nodded beamingly. "Yup, for four months, 3 weeks and a day. We're going to get married in two months time." She hoped that little extra bit of information would excite Elle enough to ask her about their plans, the proposal and stuff regarding marriage and weddings that girls would normally be extremely inquisitive about.

"Good for you," The curt, polite and uninterested reply stunned Callie- her mind drew up a blank at topics to get Elle to open up to her. She had never experienced not having anything to say and felt a little helpless as she twiddled her thumbs, not knowing what to do with herself.

"I want to make some tea before we meet the guys' in an hour time…." Callie nodded at the complimentary tea and coffee maker in the hotel room on the dressing table. "Want some?"

"Thanks but no. I'll be down at the pub in the hotel's lobby." Elle answered and though Callie would not mind going, Elle didn't ask and Callie wasn't one to invite herself into a party unless it was one of the cases the brothers were on.

"Ok." Callie shrugged, smiling though her pride about being exceptionally approachable and friendly had taken quite a bruising.

Elle stood up and left the room unceremoniously. Callie drummed her fingers on the firm mattress before hopping onto her feet to make herself that cup of tea. Well, if Elle didn't want to be a friend, Callie guessed she could be fine with that.

***

_"Hello? Joe? Is that you?"_

_"No. It's Frank. We have just booked a flight to LA and will be joining you soon. Can you check into a hotel and message me the details?"_

_"Oh… sure." Elle was a little more than pleasantly surprise that it would be Frank who contacted her. She honestly thought that her antics had scared the poor man into acquiring Ellephobia. Joe was perhaps the only guy immune to it- the man had too thick a skull to be afraid of anyone. _

_"So… Hallie's not there, huh?"_

_"No… you're right." Frank conceded and Elle decided to set him straight once and for all._

_"Frank, if you don't mind, give Joe a hug for me. And while we may be competing over him as our partner in future, anything to do with Hallie is collaboration, not competition."_

_"I'm not competing, just saying that your deductions may be right."_

_"No! You didn't say it that way. Firstly, you didn't use, 'may' and secondly…"_

_"You know something, Elle? I don't have the energy for this right now. I'll give Joe a hug for you. And that request is the only thing that convinces me that you are a warm-blooded human being." _

_There was pause right after Frank blurted out what he thought of her only after less than a day of knowing her. Elle blinked, too taken aback to feel insulted. Seconds later, Frank's tone lowered, much more somber and self-reproaching._

_"I'm sorry. I don't even know you at all… it's… it's rude of me…"_

_Elle arched a brow. Her heart twisted a little but if she could be person without tact in her candor, so could everyone else._

_"You're just saying what you feel. And I don't have any intention to change your perceptions. So, I'll message you later and take care."_

She scanned the small crowd in the small, jazzy bar, relieved that she was out of the room finally. The phone call she exchanged with Frank Hardy while she was leaving Lester Demoir's condominium kept flashing past her mind's ears. She didn't know what was it that Frank Hardy had which kept getting at her. Or, make that, she knew the reason but it was so silly and shallow, something only a high school girl would feel.

After obtaining the information she needed from the rotund security guard who sweated too much, Elle was thoroughly exhausted and thought she probably looked as terrible as she felt. It was good that she had enough rest or she was so sure she would make a fool out of herself later. And the very insubstantial conversation she had with Callie had been very tedious. Callie appeared like a girl who would ramble on and on about everything and everyone. Elle had no patience for people who talked too much and was glad Callie Shaw did not ask to tag along. 

_Oh well, who am I kidding? She's pretty and soft- an all perfect sunshine girl. _

_What was that Joe always said? Pretty girls hate pretty girls?_

_It's pretty girls, who have no chance of love, hate pretty girls who have near perfect boyfriends._

She spotted the drifting eyes of a few women in the pub and, with a hunch, followed their admiring glances and noted the too handsome blond man by the black marble bar counter, languidly shaking a slim beer bottle by its neck. It was so typical to find Joe in a setting like this when his nerves were highly strung. Shaking her head while a defeated smile gracing her lips shortly, she strolled up and sat down next to him.

"I'll have the same." She pointed her thumb at Joe's bottle. The bartender, a sweet looking spunky short haired girl, nodded and went to fulfill her order. Joe cast an ephemeral glance at her, smiling grimly. 

"You're too late, beautiful. I already have dates with four girls and my drink is all paid for." He gestured at the scattered serviettes next to him with mobile numbers written in various shades of lipsticks and different, trying-too-hard-to-be-sexy scrawls. Elle laughed lightly, finding it so humorous that people would dare risk rejection by someone they were attracted to simply base on looks. Most probably, they haven't even heard Joe's voice.

"Oh, you broke my heart…"

"If I remember correctly, you broke mine." Joe raised the bottle up for a toast when hers arrived. Elle returned the gesture and sipped the bitter, cold drink.

"Ah, now I remember. I didn't know I was the one who said we should be friends in your voice."

"I was just doing both of us a favor. It's what we both know we wanted."

Elle chuckled lowly. Joe was right. He had called her on his mobile just to tell her that right after she left the same message on his home's answering machine. Things were awkward for a moment but somehow, they had lunch together and as they reminisced about what had happened, they couldn't stop laughing in relief and in the joy of a friendship that was borne out of a, well, failed, whirlwind romance. The only word she had for that one month of flirty dates with Joe was 'fun' for it was in his nature to provoke even the most tensed up person to loosen up.

"Elle, don't take this the wrong way but… having a crush in such a short time on my brother is not a good thing."

"Who said I'm having a crush on him?" Elle glared at Joe and regretted the rushed defense which was actually an admission immediately. A sophomore's crush on a handsome, apparently intellectual senior- that was how she felt the moment she saw Frank even though he was all… _germed_-up. She just thought she had coolly brushed it off but apparently, Joe's keen radar, which could be scary, at times caught it.

"Oh puleeze. You're only so intolerably difficult and uptight when you're attracted to someone. Normally, you're just difficult."

"Geez, you used to call it a _challenge _to be with me."

"You will use all sorts of euphemisms when you wanna hit on someone." Joe grinned at her with that devious charm though it was turned down a few megawatts. It vanished as soon as those pearly whites flashed. As the weight of the crisis they were in sunk down again, the two good friends remained in silence, downing their drinks, lost in their own thoughts. A good few minutes past when Elle heard Joe sighed heavily. Casting a look at him, her guarded heart softened at the sight of his wearied face with brows knitted with unspeakable worry.

She set her drink down and tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Come here."

Leaning over into her embrace, he rested his head on her shoulder as she stroked his back reassuringly.

"It'll be all right." She spoke as soothingly as she could.

"I need a pep talk now, Elle. You're good at those lengthy speeches."

She held him a little tighter and knew right then, from his miserable voice, that his hooded eyes must be gazing forlornly at some wonderful heaven in his mind that he just could not reach. Everyone could use a friend and it was time for her to be his.

_Here goes. Speeches, speeches, speeches. Hah. Got it._

Extricating herself away from the embrace, she placed her hands on his shoulders and bore her gaze down deep into those baby blues.

Her voice grew low and serious.

"There is evil in this world and it perverts many of our brethren with increasing ease. Sometimes, we feel like the end of the world is coming soon for this evil debauches the very sanctity of what it means to be human. It's getting so hard to believe in that goodness and almost impossible to hold on to our faith that somewhere inside, a tiny spark of hope would save mankind. But if we open our eyes, we'll see that we, you and me, are part of this tiny spark of hope. We dedicate ourselves to our calling in eradicating this menace so our children can be safe- can still believe in the goodness and play safely in the streets. It's our onus to never give up, to never lose faith for if we do, then the evil will have won and take over us. We carry the spark towards the torch and damn if we don't set it ablaze. So you cannot give up- not now especially. You cannot let this evil win…" She gazed piercingly right into his eyes and saw the fire behind those windows to his soul being stoke slowly, "The hardest battle right now right now for you is to still keep that flame alive. Hallie depends on it. You cannot let the monster extinguish it. You must keep it burning and when you meet him finally, when Hallie's in your arms safe and sound, you'll blind his eyes and dispel his darkness with it. For the small, flickering flame is brightest in the middle of the darkest night. That's our strength, our hope- our stoic beacon."

"Amen!" Joe exclaimed, picked up his glass and toasted her. She smiled. Their glasses clinked loudly, reinforcing their resolution and he downed his drink in one gulp.

"We can't tarry, partner. We have to get the baddie and save my Hallie."

"Right." Elle clapped his back, "I'm glad you like it."

"Well, it's a little dungeons and dragons for my taste but the part about the stoic beacon and keeping the flame alive for Hallie- that gets me here." He thumped his heart with a fist and she laughed lightly.

"Don't you know? I write fan-fictions for Dragonlance in my free time. That was the speech given by a white cleric of mine to a band of sorry companions before they set out to eradicate a bunch of evil gnomes about to unleash a nuclear bomb."

"Man…" Joe shook his head in mild amusement, "Remind me to remind you to get a life. Not the unhealthy role-playing kind but a real one."

***

"… and then she left for the jazz pub." Frank watched with an amused smile as Callie shrugged helplessly at her own recounting of her first Elle-experience, "That's all folks."

"You must be kidding me."

"Nope. _That's all. All accumulated ten seconds of our conversation." _

Frank guffawed at her pouting face and angrily folded arms as he wrapped his arm protectively over her shoulders. She fumed at him but snuggled up close, wrinkling her nose when she spotted Elle and Joe seated at the hotel's café from a distance where they were supposed to meet for their morning discussion. When they arrived in LA last night, it was already too late for action-planning and all of them were exhausted from all the earlier, grueling events. Thus, they decided to gather, after a good night's rest, at the hotel's café early in the morning at seven.

Joe and Elle were both gazing out of the window at the lazy morning landscape of the sidewalk in front of the hotel, oblivious to early risers in the café and their tea going cold.

"So, did you have the conversation you wanted with Joe?"

"Nope. He split while I was taking a shower and I was so tired I slept before he came back. This morning, he left the room before I did. I wonder if he's purposely avoiding me since I kinda mentioned that we should have a talk. I thought this scenario only happens between couples, not brothers."

"Oh, Joe's never the kind of guy who _talk_ to anyone anyway about serious stuff. Don't worry too much about that. When this thing is over, I'm sure the both of you will have time for some major conversation." Callie looked up at him with those amazing, encouraging hazel eyes and he had to ask himself, once again, why he didn't propose earlier. They could have been married with an adorable baby already.

Then Hallie's disappearance made him fear for the safety of his unborn children he saw in her eyes. Even though kidnappings could happen to everyone, he knew his job hazards all too well. He and his brother were often the targets of loony baddies who wanted to take revenge on his father. His children would be placed in the same perils and he feared they might not escape unscathed.

Swallowing the chunk of worry that was not particularly unfounded, he squeezed her forearm which was getting a little chubbier because she had been pigging out on gourmet chocolates lately. It was more than all right though, he always thought she was a little too skinny and was pretty happier about her chubbier cheeks. His wife would be one who was well-fed and happy.

"I'm sure you're right." He kissed her cheek. They strode up to the Joe and Elle, and Frank drew out the seat next to Elle for Callie before he made himself comfortable on the one next to Joe.

"You two are early."

"Can't sleep." Joe muttered and smiled bleakly at Frank, pushing the menu over. "Take your orders first. They're pretty slow."

After Frank called the waitress over and ordered for him and Callie, he returned his attention to the table to find that all eyes were on him to start the meeting. Suddenly, he felt like the alpha male.

"Ok…" He hunched over, taking the leadership offered to him by waiting eyes. "Here are some updates. I'm going to call Biff later since I could not get him earlier to ask about the snake angle. Dad should feedback to us about his findings on the abortion clinic Joe and Vanessa went to but since it was so long ago, we have to keep a realistic expectation about his discoveries as well as what Biff could help us with since what we have for the reptile guy is really scanty. So, I think we should put in more effort in the sole print. Personally, I can't think of anyone who knew about Joe and Vanessa's intentions besides those closest to us and the employees of the clinic…"

"Erm… well, those in my anger management class knew about it too." Joe spoke lowly. "I had mentioned in passing to them a long while back but I really can't come up with any suspicious characters. They're all great people seeking help for a problem they knew they want to be rid of- they're not psychos, you know. Just normal people like you and me. Those who have serious mental illnesses have one-to-one sessions with the psychiatrist."

Frank's eyes rounded, a little taken aback by the new information. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"It just occurred to me while I was brainstorming with Elle earlier on." Joe bit his lower lip, gazing uneasily at his tea on the table. 

_Oh. It occurred to you when you were brainstorming with Elle but not with me and dad._

"I see." Frank took out his Palm and started scribbling in the new bits of information, hoping to mask his bitterness with feigned nonchalance. "We'll check them out…"

Joe scrunched up the right side of his face. "I made a call to Con just now to check out my group members and our therapist's profiles…" Those blue eyes that Frank suddenly thought he didn't really know very well shot a guilty glance at him before looking away hastily. "Well, basically to see if anyone of them had any past criminal history, especially with anti-abortionists' activities of the violent nature. We should be hearing from him soon... Elle thought of the anti-abortionists angle." Joe looked across the table at the straight-faced girl. 

"I have properly accredited you! Don't start jumping on me now!"

Frank could tell Joe was trying to lighten the mood by teasing someone else for a laugh but it was not funny and no one was amused. No one dared to be amused, judging from the uncomfortable look that had settled on Callie's features. She exhaled heavily, a sure sign she was affected by the sudden tension between the brothers.

"Ok." Frank raked his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to say. A stray thought disarmed him and knocked him from his perceived spot of security. In the lives of those who mattered most to him, he could be rather dispensable.

"I was at Demoir's condominium yesterday when you called. Found out from the guard he stayed alone. And from the duty roster I stole a quick glance at, our friendly guard will take over the morning shift today. I have tested him out and discovered that he has an eye for pretty things. Since he met me before, I can't think of another reason to go back without looking too suspicious. Maybe Callie could distract him while you and Joe slip in and do…" Elle gestured vaguely. "Whatever you two do."

"Good ol' B&E." Joe curled his lips sardonically, no longer interested in _lightening the __mood. "To steal footprints. How hilarious."_

"It can be our best lead. Looks like you two have it pretty covered." Frank commented. He wanted to sound casual and maybe even proud of them but somehow, from Callie's chary glance at him, he knew he sounded more like he had eaten too many sour grapes.

Regretting even speaking a word as he felt Joe flinched next to him, he cast his eyes downwards, jotting down gibberish into his Palm furiously. Joe nudged at his knee underneath the table with his in a silent gesture of apology and it made him feel even more selfish for being so unsympathetic. It was Hallie who was missing. Hallie! Joe's ability to think back about certain details of his colorful life would definitely be compromised and when new leads hit him, he would definitely act on them immediately, regardless of who he brainstormed the ideas with. Frank knew he would have done the same.

Shame stretched his lips thinly in self-reproach. How could he put Joe in such a difficult position when Joe was already beset with an enormous amount of troubles? If he was the self-sacrificing elder brother everyone thought he was, he should be trying his best to lighten Joe's load, not add on to it.

The talk could wait. Hallie must come first.

Joe's needs must come before it too because at that moment, they were definitely more important.

"So, let's go through the steps on how we are going to sneak up to Lester's apartment. Joe, ready?" Frank nudged Joe's knee back and smiled with contrite eyes that said he should be the one apologizing, not Joe. Joe gave him an _"Aw, forget it," shrug and cocked his head at Elle._

"So, Elle. Brief us on the layout of the condominium."

As if on cue, the aroma of fresh English muffins wafted to their nose as the waitress fulfilled his order. There was nothing like food to keep daunted spirits buoyant and, glancing at Joe's hungry eyes, he knew it to be most true for his brother.

***


	16. 15

Chapter 15

Itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

"Are you sure he's not staying here? He brought me here before. I really need to see him… please…"

The blond man sniggered violently from where he was hiding out of the security guard's sight. Muscled back against concrete wall, Joe sucked in his stomach as if he was trying to flatten himself into one flat pasta so he could observe the play, "When Snubbed Blondie Meet Fat Sweaty Guy" from a closer distance and still remain unseen. He would have felt deep pity for the pug-nosed man if he wasn't feeling so self-servingly gleeful at the distress on the poor guy's folded mien and how Callie Shaw had to pretend to keep the guy hooked on her while wrestling his pawing, fleshy palms away.

"Oh… here dearie…" The security decided to grope a feel of Callie's slinky shoulders by feigning sensitivity. Callie subtly backed a step away and honked her nose loudly into her paper napkin before rummaging in her bag for one more as she sputtered words of a spurn lover.

"I can't believe it… he's lying… to me… all this time…"

"If he dare touch her one more time, I'm going to hack those fat hands off." Frank barked raucously, extremely displeased by the necessary role that Callie had decided to play- the weak, helpless damsel in distress looking for a strong shoulder to cry on. Joe's mirth melted away- it was only a little sacrifice for Hallie's safety, not as if the guard was taking advantage…

_Wait. He is. Thanks, Callie. I'll make it up to you._

"Here it comes…" Joe controlled his voice to a flat whisper as his stomach churned from those instantaneous changes of varied emotions. "She will run out of tissues. Elle spotted a box of Kleenex at the lower shelf of the counter."

"I ran out of tissues. Do you have one to spare?" Callie whined helplessly. Now, she was a little over-the-top in his opinion. If she wasn't pretty, she would be gratingly annoying.

"Of course, sweetie…hang on…"

"_Sweetie, __dearie," His brother mimicked the guard caustically. "He's tempting me to rip his tongue! How on Earth did I even agree to this crazy scheme?"_

"Gee, I don't know. You nod your head and exclaimed 'Brilliant!' when your fiancée came out with it?"

"After consulting Elle." Frank seethed, "My brains must have turned into mush then!"

"Shh! He's bending down. Now!" 

The two brothers stealthily crept sideways towards the entrance when Joe spotted the guard's head bobbed up, a box in those stumpy hands. Slamming back against the wall, Joe growled in frustration and Frank laid a calming hand on his shoulder. 

_Think of something, Callie…something that will give us more time to cross the damn distance!_

"Can you please check the database again? He must be here... he must be…" Her pleas squeaked down to desperate whimpers. Joe felt his lips twitched again with an insuppressible, sardonic sneer which chased the sinking feeling of initial failure away.

"Of course I can. Lemme see…" 

Stealing a glance in from the corner of his eyes, Joe saw the guard banging away on the console with beady eyes fixed on the screen. The younger detective knew that this ruse would not give them the needed time and his mind rushed for ideas when Frank whispered urgently into his ears. 

"Earrings!"

_That's it!_

Joe crept quickly towards the entrance where he would be in stark, open view for all to shoot at and waved wildly to get Callie's attention. Acting on some intuition, she turned to her side and he quickly tugged at one of his earrings. Callie nodded, unscrewed her left ear's stud and flung it behind the guard. Joe hurriedly flung himself back against the wall again and continued watching the show from his position.

"Nothing's going right!" Callie shrilled piercingly. "I dropped my earring now. Can you help me find it? It fell behind the counter…" She leaned over and pointed confusingly at random spots behind the counter to baffle the guard. Joe wished she didn't have to do that but it worked for the guard slanted his gleaming eyes at her deepened cleavage before grinning like a shark about to feast on its prey.

"Of course. Where it is?" From his distracted tone and too bright eyes, Joe knew the guard could care less about Callie's ear stud.

"Behind…you'll have crawl down and look for it." Callie helpfully directed the guard in a louder voice, probably having the idea that if she did not do that, his eyes would pop out from staring too much. Joe decided that it was better if he didn't tell Frank who couldn't see the going-on as he was blocked by Joe's body about the guard's repulsive glimpses at Callie like he was undressing her in his mind.

"Now!"  Joe ordered harshly when the guard bent down and waved for his brother to follow. Like two furtive, muscled ghosts, they flew quietly through the entrance, across the distance and slipped pass the door leading to fire-escape staircase so dangerously close to the security counter. Joe's track shoes almost skidded against the smooth marble tiles and but thankfully, before the tell-tale squeaking sound of a rubber-soled intruder echoed through the posh lobby, he managed to, with his brother, stepped into the safety of the stairs landing.

"She's really something, should try out for Hollywood. A little polishing and she'll be a mega A-lister. You can even quit this job and live off her!" Joe sneaked a sly look over his shoulder Frank as they rushed up the staircase. "Are you sure she didn't trick you with her innate thespian abilities to get you to propose? Women can be so crafty."

Frank smiled grimly, still looking riled by the sleazy guard. When Elle said he had an eye for pretty things, she didn't tell them about those wandering hands. Joe felt sorry for Frank and Callie and sick of himself. In his restless sleep for the past two nights, those sketchy nightmares dredged up the reason for Hallie's disappearance from the hassled cells and mangled nerves of his brains- whatever the logic behind, it sounded most true to his ears.

Hallie disappeared because he was a lousy father. Period. And because of his incompetence, the people who cared about him had to make sacrifices that compromised so much of what they held important and dear.

"Maybe. I don't know. She's all grouchy and cranky after Liz and Don's wedding. Caught the darn bouquet and nagged at me daily about how 'embarrassing' it was when all the girls simply jumped away when the bunch of roses plummet down at them and she actually reached out to grab them. Besides…" A slow, personal smile crept up the sides of those displeased lips, "It's time. It's long overdue."

Joe wanted to make a wisecrack about how Frank had been brainwashed but halt his tongue when he recognized the quiet resonance of bliss amalgamated in the thickened speech towards the end. So, Frank found his soul mate about nine years ago. And he was finally making her his.

Marriage. Joe cleared his mind of all the terrible things he could say and swear true about two people living together in body and spirit as he concentrated on climbing all forty flights of stairs to the twentieth floor of the pointed block.

"Finally! Last flight! You know what will really annoy me right now?" Frank called out from behind breathlessly.

"That I left the 'picks in the car?" Joe stood at the stairs landing and extended out a hand to pull his brother up as he struggled with the last torturous step.

"Yah. Something like that." Frank accepted the assistance gratefully with scarcely a wince of a bruised male ego. "Thanks, bro."

"No worries. You'll do the same. Callie's cooking improved such that it's actually edible?" Joe could not resist the quip and met with vapid, exhausted eyes, signaling that Frank was not amused.

"Ok, ok. Don't look like a zombie now."

"I feel like one." Frank admitted. "Forty flights of stairs. Why can't everyone be infected with vertigo?"

"Coz not everyone's you." Joe murmured as he peered out of the rectangular, plastic panel in the exit door. When he noted that the coast was clear, he gently turned the knob and swung the door opened, keeping his head low lest the security camera caught his face. However, he had every faith that Callie's acting skills would keep the guard from observing jadedly at the security monitors and finally seeing something interesting like two goons breaking into some apartment.

Frank tapped his shoulder and pointed at the right door. Each floor only held four apartments which shared a common, carpeted, octagonal vestibule. Woe to the cleaner if someone should traipse into the lobby from the elevator with muddy shoes. Joe stood by the door and drew out a pouch which looked like manicure set holder. Before he revealed the contents construe out of more sophisticated robbers' stainless steel dreams, he glanced at his brother and grinned mirthlessly.

"I have forgotten the picks. Will ya be a dear and go fetch it?"

"Right. I'll throw you down from here personally." Frank remarked acerbically, "C'mon. Don't play the fool now." 

Joe chuckled lowly. Under his expert administration, he had the lock yield to his prowess in no time.

"Not bad. Looks like someone's skills has improved tremendously. Your timing's better than mine by ten seconds." Frank looked up from his watch, impressed. Joe's pride was injected with a shot of verbal booster- unbeknownst to everyone, Frank used to be the better rouge.

"Well, I have a great teacher to begin with."

"I was damning myself when I taught you this. Now, I have to bolt my door."

"Oh puleeze… like you have deep, dark secrets that will you if we know." Joe pushed the door open and with a flourish, gestured for Frank to enter first. "After you."

"Thank you, my good man…" Frank strolled in like a swaggering magnate and even had the audacity to tip Joe with an old, dollar bill as he passed, "And it won't kill me if you know my secrets. It'll kill ya."

Joe let out the required polite laughter that sounded so squeezed out of his chest, knowing that Frank was larking around to distract him from his anxiety as much as he was trying to do that for himself. But right then, he could no longer pretend to still banter like before as the most promising lead to Hallie's uncover before his eyes. The bastard couldn't have planted every single clue. He couldn't be so smart. He was desperately hoping for a glimmer of hope- they could not be let down again.

_Please, God. Let the soles be his mistake. His one big mistake._

***

_"The four of them are in LA right now."_

_"Then you must be very happy."_

_"Happy? Do you even realize the stupid mistake you made? Why must you wear those damn shoes? Wasn't ridding him enough?" The cold, emotionless voice took on an uncharacteristic harshness. The executioner smiled satisfactory into the receiver- it was so fun to see his partner ruffled, or rather, in this case, hear. Sometimes, he wondered how his partner sounded in that other, delusional life of his. A pretty, pitiful life of those aimless mortals._

_"Then we'll just get rid of them."_

_"You book the earliest flight you can to LA, hear me?"_

_"Why? Why LA?" He sung aloofly into the phone, rubbing the salve on his disfigured fingertips. It was only a pair of shoes. He loved wearing that pair of calf, leather shoe. It was symbolic, very important. And how could they link a sole print to him? _

_He laughed inwardly. How could they catch a dead man? _

_There was heavy breathing on the other end. By the dark waters, murky chambers of the children's souls, his old friend worried too much. They had melded their souls together and never once were they exorcist. A tiny slip never means anything- the police and Feds were idiots. Four bumblebrains? Not a chance in hell!_

_"Has the ventricle in your brain grew larger, you stupid oaf? Now, stop singing and listen to me!  We must get rid of them."_

_"And I'll have to do it. You never get your hands dirty… tsk tsk." The executioner gently set the salve down onto the moldy oak wood table. What a shame- something so strong and sturdy succumbing to years of moisture and neglect. He stretched himself out, cracking the tension out of his bones. Ah! It was so nice to be free of those irritating voices for a while. He flicked the switch on the epilator. The buzzing sound excited him with the anticipation of a million ant bites soon stimulating his entire body._

_"That's because without me, you'll be incarcerated sooner than you draw your next breath! Listen and shut up."_

_"You're losing it. Calm down. Ok. I'm listening. Oh… before you start, can I kill the girl already?"_

***

Joe cursed silently in aggravation as he tempered with the bottom cupboard's lock of the tall column shelf. After stumbling into the bathroom and the horrendously purpled bedroom, they finally opened the right door into Demoir's workplace. Actually, they weren't even sure if Demoir even had a workplace in his apartment and for a second there, Joe was afraid that they would have to search the whole house which was a kaleidoscope of nauseating colors and some actually recognizable furniture.

And after turning his workplace upside down with no results, Joe feared they just might have to risk an elephant migraine by getting to know the rest of the apartment intimately.

_Last chance. The final, unexplored frontier. What will I find inside? Cobwebs and a tarantula?_

He heard the satisfying 'snick' and opened the cupboard's door. It was stacked high with hardcover ring files and Joe's excitement surged.

"This must be it." He whispered, convincing himself and drew out a file, flipping through it. "Bingo! Names, profiles and blueprints of shoes."

Frank, who had been kneeling beside him in silence while he concentrated on the lock, took the file from him and frowned immediately. "It'll take us a long time to go through all these files. They're arranged according to clients' name, not shoe's size. Look at the precious paper and space. This whole place won't be so cluttered if he computerizes his work."

"You mean we won't need to go through all these manually." Joe smirked. "The whole world is not as tuned to technology as you are, Frank. Deal with it."

"All right." Frank started pulling out the files and stacking them up. He left slightly over half the files for Joe to carry. "You deal with it."

Joe watched his brother hefting up the stack of files which was as high as the height from his waist to his chin and groaned at the rest left behind for him. "Ok, if I share your sentiments now, will you forgive me and take some more?"

Frank grinned wickedly at him. "I'll love to but I'll break my back kneeling down again."

"Sheesh. Remind me to get you something special for your birthday." Joe grumbled, taking on his burden. The files weighed heavily on his screaming arm muscles and when he thought about the time they would need to go through all the sketching and compare them with the print, the prospect caused his head to throb.

"Bro… are we going to cart these back up when we're done?" Joe groaned at the awful thought. 

"No. We are going to email them back to him." Frank balanced the files on his forearms as he turned the knob with his right hand. 

"How? I don't think there's a bandwidth large enough to take these files and he doesn't even have a computer." 

"Precisely. He needs to be taught a lesson in the convenience of technology. That's his just desserts for thwarting our efforts to get this done quickly." Frank supported the door open with his shoulder for Joe to pass through first. "Let's hurry, Callie might run of ideas soon."

Joe shook his head at his brother's jesting. Geniuses were weird and while Joe was the prankster, Frank could be cunningly sadistic if he wanted to. The world should be thankful that his brother's heart was doggedly on the good side.

Unlike those psychopathic evil-doers.


	17. 16

**Chapter 16**

**itsmeocean@hotmail.com**

**Homecoming**

The headache pounded at his temples, screaming for more attention. Heavy lids drooped over tired eyes and all the drawings, blueprints, and scribbling were melting into one huge pool of black ink in his mind. But he knew he have to persevere on. Setting his last file aside, he buried his face in his hands and breathed in and out forcefully, trying to clear his mind of all the accumulated garbage.

Callie had not failed them. When the brothers crept out of the fire escape with those heavy files, she had the guard seated next to her on the lobby's sofa for waiting guests with his back facing away from the entrance, and thus, the brothers. Joe had winked at Callie as they sneaked out of the building while she rolled her eyes dully. The guard and her had switched roles- now, Callie was holding on to the box of tissue, offering a piece by a piece to the sobbing guard. It was only later when they learned that somehow, while Callie was _confiding in the guard about her failed romance with Mr. Rajasamy, a green card holder from India, he was reminded of the traumatic experience of being left by the altar while his love ran away in her wedding dress with her best friend, another woman. The whole scene could be from a sitcom and Joe almost expected to see studio lights and cue signs prompting audience to laugh. Whatever it was, he was eternally grateful to Callie for brilliantly distracting the guard away from his screens and the brothers creeping out of the condominium block._

The eye of the tornado would be pleased to see the state the room was in- hardcover files strewn across the floor- some opened and some closed. Loose sheets of paper scattered around, and a few pieces were accidentally trampled on. Joe wasn't sure how they could return Lester Demoir's his precious work without him throwing an epileptic fit- maybe a card of apology might do the trick but Joe doubted it. Suddenly, his head felt even more weighted and, coupled that with the heady feeling of sudden rushes of oxygen to his brains, Joe wanted to vomit.

He gagged, swallowing down the puke. Was he falling sick? What if they couldn't find any matching sole print? What will it mean for Hallie? Seated with legs spread out on the floor and his back against the side of the bed frame, he lolled back his head to rest on the firm mattress for a while.  Elle had made herself comfortable on the bed as she perused her set of files. Looking up at her, his heart skipped a beat- the Casanova in him never rested and Elle- neat, unruffled Elle- was the most attractive when her raven hair was out of place as she pored over whatever she was doing with those gorgeous dark green eyes hiding behind her black-rimmed glasses. For a moment, just languidly gazing at her, his mind was minutely soothed by intellectual beauty. 

She didn't even notice him looking at her and he was fine with that. When the migraine subsided a little, he went back to the file. With one hand flipping the pages, the other raised up the copy of the sole print which Frank had printed out for all of them. Squinting his eyes for better focus, he immediately regretted the action for his headache suddenly pounded harder.

_C'mon. This is the last customer profile of mine. Got to match. Have to match. MATCH! MATCH! MATCH!_

"ARGHH!" He roared when the last size twelve profile he had belonged to someone with normal feet. Flinging the file on the floor, fluttering up some sheets of paper with the stirred air currents, Joe forced himself to count to ten. Looking at Elle wouldn't help now- what was beauty without hope?

"I still have a few more sole prints to look at. You know, like the movies- it's never the first, not even the middle. It's always the last one you look at."

"Then jump right to the last one!" Joe looked up at her again, gesturing vehemently. "Just go right at it!"

"I'll gladly offer you a few more to look at but I won't. You can't concentrate."

"Damn right I can't!"

"Go to your room to join them and stop annoying me. I'll get the match for you." Elle finally peered at him from under her glasses jadedly. She was numbed to his antics just as he was sick of them. But who could understand? When rage bubbled and rationality so scarce in supply, who could understand just how terrible it felt to teeter at the edge of a violent bout of insanity?

No one understood the wreck he was and he felt like he was doing too good a job of taming the dragon's fiery breath stoked in his stomach. Ignoring the tightening of his chest, he stood up abruptly and stormed out of the room, trampling on some blueprints, no longer feeling contrite about messing up someone's hard work. Had he less control, he would have wanted to shred all the useless pieces to shreds.

And maybe, if Elle couldn't find anything in the final file, he would.

***

"I'm thinking it can't be a coincidence that the clinic Joe and Vanessa went to would receive such gruesome letters… I'll check it out later if you still can't the doctor. He relocated to Florida?"

"Yes, apparently, he's no longer working as an abortionist. Some would say…onscience, I say …ear." There was some static in the line and Frank had to strain his ears at parts and assumed the rest. Checking his phone quickly, he noticed that it was almost drained of battery juice.

"And the cabin?"

"Nothing useful showed up unless you have something for dust."

"Ok, dad. I got it all down. I'll call you back with my own findings soon. We don't seem to have much luck with the print and Biff told me the description the man gave himself when speaking to Joe could match a number of venomous snakes, some of which are not illegal to keep. We need to be more specific."

"Hmm… don't worry. Something will come up soon, it always do. Call me back, son, when you have something. I'll try the doctor again but I'll give you his home number just in case. He doesn't carry a mobile, only a pager. I'll give you that too."

"Thanks dad…" Frank pressed the mobile between his ears and shoulder as he hurriedly took a pen and scribbled down the numbers into his Palm. Bidding Fenton farewell, Frank disconnected the call as Callie tapped him on his arm, eyes shining with concern.

"So, what did you dad say?" 

Frank sat down next to her on his bed, scrolling down the notes he had taken down in his precious digital PA.

"None of Joe's anger management class peers have any motives. They checked all four of them out- they have alibis. The therapist too was in some conference or some other important stuff. However, the very interesting bit they dug up was on the abortion clinic. Seems like their previous doctor- the one that Ness and Joe saw, had quit his job citing stress as a reason. Rumors had it that he received very weird, threatening letters with a personal agenda rather than belonging to any lobbyist groups with a penchant for using force to get what they want. Dad found out that the doctor is now practicing in Florida but no longer as an abortionist. He's now a gynecologist. Peter Masters. We'll have to talk to him."

Callie lifted up one side of her lips wryly. "You know I'm a pro-life. But I can't agree with those who resort to deadly violence to protest against the cause. It's like the pot calling the kettle black."

"I know." Frank squeezed her shoulder absentmindedly, saving his work. 

"I mean, killing another never seemed right to my eyes for whatever reason- even capital punishment or in war. You kill someone, you judge him or her permanently and you are definitely not worthy of that. You take away their future- you take away their freewill. You play God and most undeservingly so. Do you think that's how the abductor feels like? God? Do you think he's addicted to the adrenaline of holding many lives in his hands with just one? You're the one who ran after serial killers before and took up many modules dealing mainly in criminal psychology. Tell me Frank. Why?" Callie looked up at him with searching hazel eyes. 

"Why Hallie? Why any of us?"

"Why ask why? Frank will tell you none of us really know why they are doing this. We can build up profiles, seek out the roots to their insanity but we'll never really know what really drives them. We just hope we know enough to get them." 

At the sound of Joe's voice, Frank jerked up with a shock. His grim-faced brother stood by the door, his hair all mussed up and his eyes gleaming dangerously. How did Joe so quietly open the door without them knowing? Frank was seeing his brother in a different light now- he was no longer the kid who simply charged into action like a bull in a cluttered china shop.

"Sometimes, when we do catch a glimpse in their warped logic, we fear for ourselves. To understand them would somehow mean we take on a little of them in our minds. In order to understand, we try to think like them, to even feel like them. In order to think like them, we become them for a while." Frank spoke lowly, recalling the last case he had- the man who went around killing seemingly without a motive or agenda. The bullet wound he received in his arm, chasing down the fiend, had healed but the mental scars it left behind hadn't. His friends teased him for being modest about his accomplishment but they didn't know the reason why he couldn't talk about it was not due to a humble nature. Frank wanted to rid the man's logic forever away from his mind before it festered into his mind and, at best, jaded him.

At worst, become a small part of him.

"He hates me, that's for sure. He talks about my intentions like it was personal to him. He sounded as if I have wronged him but I don't even know him. Maybe he was abandoned as a child and at some point in his life, thought of the aborted babies as being abandoned, just like he was." Joe let the door swing close by it self as he staggered over and lay down on his bed, pushing his hair up as he massaged his temples.

"Then he should be saving children, not kidnap them."

"Kidnap Hallie to punish me for ever having the intention. Kill her to teach me a lesson I'll never forget." Joe mumbled blandly, his eyes shone too bright as if aided by the onset of fever and great trauma. Frank went over and pressed the back of his hand against Joe's forehead.

"You're burning slightly. Maybe you should take a rest."

"That's what I'm doing, right? I'll be fine after a minute or two. Cal, do you have Panadol?" 

"Yup, hang on." Callie searched through her wallet and drew out a small, round pill sealed up in plastic and aluminum foil. Frank frowned a little at his brother, worried about Joe's health now. It was true- when the spirit was sick, the body would fall apart.

Joe could not fall apart now. None of them could. He took the pill from Callie, popped it out of the seal and passed it to Joe who swallowed it without water. 

"You'll get it stuck in your throat that way."

"It's down."

Shaking his head, Frank went to pour a glass of water for Joe from the electric kettle. "I gather you didn't get anything from your files?"

"Nope. I don't know. Have we hit a dead end? Did Dad or Biff come up with any..."

The door swung open then again and all eyes were on Elle who was flushing red from the exhilaration of a major discovery, holding up two pieces of paper in her hands.

The lethargy dissolved away, Joe jumped up and stumbled across the room to Elle at the entrance. Gripping Elle by her forearms, he stared hard at the diagrams she was holding up. Frank could see that one loose sheet was the sole print he printed- the other was a penciled drawing.

"Tell me I'm looking at a match." Joe breathed raggedly, his mouth gaping as he studied the drawings. Frank set the glass down and went over to join them.

"You are, buddy. And you'll never guess who it belongs to." Elle smiled grimly though there was a triumph glint flickering in her emerald eyes.

"Who?" Joe shook her arms- feverish eyes too impatient for further suspense.

"Donald Summers. The famous criminologist."


	18. 17

Homecoming edited

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Chapter 17.1

Elle felt a little limbless, or rather, a little incomplete, and the culprit for her sense of lack was Joe Hardy. In his haste to rush to the airport, Joe had simply grabbed her cell phone which was the same model and color as hers without looking. His cell was in the girls' room, on the dressing table and while listening to Frank update on the new progress in the case, she had placed hers on the guys' dressing table. A most unfortunate mixed up and she guessed Joe hadn't realized it since her phone was not switched on. And there was no way he could activate it for she had barred unauthorized use with a password needed for both activation and SIM card change.

"I'm sure they will call back once Joe saw that he has your phone." Callie reassured her smilingly, hearing her grumbling lowly to herself while staring at his cell. She wondered what she would do without her list of contacts. Half her brains were in the phone- cell phones caused her to be numerically challenged for she stored all her numbers inside. Without it, she was friendless, not that she had many friends but that was beside the point. Shoving his phone into her pocket, cursing the day she and Joe decided to go for the "Two-For-The-Price-Of-One" mobile phone deal, she jerked her head at Callie who was punching in Dr. Masters' home number onto the keypad in her cell phone.

"Still can't get him?"

"Nope… paged for him though using Joe's phone and left a pager's alpha message saying it's urgent he call back. I'm missing the guys. But there are only two more seats on the plane and it's not wise for all four of us to go chasing one lead." Callie sighed as she selected the function for the phone to redial the number if the line's not connected. Elle looked away from the cell phone's screen and darted her eyes about, pondering, given her current state of crush on Frank Hardy, if she was an underhanded person if she asked about the man who looked like he had just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

She decided then that she would be a lowlife if she asked about Frank because there was no way she could have done it without any ulterior motive. But Callie had nothing to fear. Elle had enough of men who belonged to someone else.

"Have you met Hallie before? I wonder how she is… the poor little dear. She's really smart and resembles her father so much. You'll like her if you haven't met her before- you'll love her." Callie patted her hand comfortingly. "I can see you're deeply worried for her too."

Elle finally understood what Callie had assumed and laughed lightly, nervously even. "No… I'm not Joe's girlfriend. Just his partner… and good friend. I'm worried for his daughter and for him- anybody will."

Callie raised her brows, a little skeptical. She wrinkled her nose, deep in thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Nothing… I'm sorry… I did think so… it's just the way he looks at you…. Hmm… I shouldn't jump to conclusion. Frank thought so too but didn't dare ask. Now we know." Callie smiled, embarrassed. Right then, Elle's heart palpitated a little quickly in anxiety- questions of childish "what-ifs" plagued her train of thoughts.

_If he thinks I'm Joe's girlfriend… he will have subconsciously ceased to see me as a person of interest from the opposite sex… which means… I have no chance… which means I must clear this…_

_Wait. I have no chance. He adores his fiancée and his fiancée is sitting right next to me! What am I thinking? Bad Elle! Naughty Elle!_

_And how does Joe look at me? I know he can't keep his eyes off my hair sometimes… but that's him… wandering eyes admiring anything in skirts besides males and animals._

"Joe and I dated casually for a while- while we were together, he was together with two other girls and I was kinda seeing another guy too. No commitment, nothing. Just pure fun."

"You two could have fooled us all. His eyes just brighten when he looks at you… really. I'm not kidding you. I have a gut feeling about this sort of things." Callie wrinkled her nose again. "Hmm… I ramble on too much… huh?"

Elle shook her head in the negative. "It's ok. Just… keep it between the both of us. As far as I know, he's still carrying the torch for his ex-wife."

"Ness?"

"Yes…" Elle guessed she wasn't as immune to womanly gossip as she liked to think she was and a little company was not too bad actually. Callie seemed genuine- not an airhead or some snooty blonde who thought she was _so pretty and sweet. Leaning over, she whispered in Callie's ear as if she had something very important and secretive to share. "He keeps a picture of her in his wallet. Besides me, all the other girls he dated have some resemblance to her as well. Grey eyes, ash blonde hair, tall, sophisticated… and then he runs."_

"Runs?" Callie asked in the same hushed tone, very curious now. "As in just vanished?"

"Oh, no. He's responsible enough to tell them that he can't commit. And then he prowled the street for the next substitute. He's really just looking for her." Elle bit her lips, knowing she had spoken too much. Wrinkling her nose the same way Callie did, she tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear and narrowed her eyes in discomfiture.

"I think I said too much…"

"Yup… we both did. It's between us." Callie vowed, grinning as she looked up with an innocent expression on her face. "There! All forgotten!"

Elle chuckled lowly and was about to thank her when suddenly, the bed vibrated. No, it wasn't the bed; it was Callie's cell phone which vibrated on the bed. Masters had finally picked up the call. Callie snatched the phone in haste. She put the phone on loud speaker mode so Elle could participate as well.

"Hello Dr. Masters?"

"What do you want? I keep getting your number on my Caller ID and I don't know who you are but I will report you to the police if you dare try anything funny." The tenor voice sounded brave but Elle spotted the slight tremor. Raising her voice so the inbuilt microphone could pick it up, Elle decided that truth was in order here.

"Dr. Masters. I'm Elle Kang, a private investigator, and next to me is Callie Shaw, also another private investigator…" She smiled briefly at Callie who beamed at that introduction which placed her as an equal. "A daughter of our friend is kidnapped and, possibly, her disappearance has something to do with the threatening letters that you got…"

"How? I don't see the connection. And I am not receiving those letters anymore…" The man spoke cautiously, his composure giving way to suspicions. "I have reported that to the police so…"

"Wait… Dr. Masters. I know how you feel…" Callie hurriedly spoke up before he hung up. "We can understand the turmoil you face, living in constant fear. And if we have the time, we'll have gone over and begged you personally for assistance. You see, my friend and his ex-wife visited your ex-clinic in Porter's Bay before for an abortion but they decided not to go through with it at the very last minute. Somehow, someone knew about their original intention and while we can't be a hundred percent sure that the letters are linked, we can't dismiss the probability because it's too much of a coincidence. Please… help us out here… you'll be saving a girl's life…" Callie pleaded. Elle shot a look at her to see if she was pretending to be distressed as Joe had mentioned that Callie was a first-class actress but the two tiny rivulets down her cheeks could not have been faked. Perhaps the man heard the desperation that surfaced once again with the recounting- perhaps he heard the truth. Whatever softened his heart, Elle might never be able to explain.

_Perhaps it has something to do with being human and doing what you know, in your conscience, is the right thing to do._

"I see… a girl… how old is she?"

"Her name's Hallie. She's six years old… going on seven. She's adorable with golden hair and eyes the color of cornflowers…" Elle described Hallie as best as she could from the photographs she had seen; knowing the moment the man had a mental image of how Hallie might look like, it would make it harder for him to refuse giving information. "She's lovely and she's not with us. She's in danger. She's Hallie, our sunshine."

"Hallie…" The man repeated her name softly, in deep contemplation.

"Her mom's Vanessa and her dad's Joe. Right now, they are both freaking out and having nightmares that Hallie's lost to them forever. Her father almost lost his mind… please…" Callie caught on what Elle was trying to do- humanize everyone and everything. Appeal to the man's innate sense of compassion.

"I…"

"You can call the Bayport's Police Department. Their number's listed. Speak to Chief Collig or Con Riley. You'll know we're speaking the truth." Elle tried to reassure him with some means of validation. 

"No, I don't need that." Now, the man sounded surer; kinder. "There's a… a terrible story in which I'm a huge part of during a harsh winter 28 years ago in that clinic… and those letters I've got haunt me once again with those terrible memories. I haven't told anyone because I was so guilty… the police didn't really exactly believe me either. I think… I think you'll believe me… right?"

"We will." Callie assured him, sniffing a little in order to breathe. "We're listening."

As Dr. Masters told his story in halting speech, Callie and Elle's hands grew colder, almost as if they were little schoolgirls listening to a storyteller reiterating some Halloween tale to scare the kids. Elle took Callie's hand and they drew strength from each other's company- knowing, with their women's intuition, that the same guy who wrote those hate mails to the doctor was the same guy who took Hallie. Hallie was symbolic to him- Hallie escaped the fate. 

An odd friendship too blossomed between the two girls- a friendship that would never lead them to become best friends but still, good friends who had shared an experience they would never forget.

After Callie thanked the doctor, she called Frank immediately. Elle was still a little stunned by the story that seemed to be crafted out of some horror movie's script rather than real life experiences. She saw Callie frowning into the receiver after a harried greeting. There was a pause and Callie sucked in a deep breath before robotically summarizing the story and disconnected without those sweet lovers' goodbyes.

"Voicemail?"

Callie smiled wryly. "Yah. Frank hardly forgets his spare battery. Guess the boys aren't contacta…"

An uplifting tune rang and it always reminded Elle of hamsters when it vexed her sense of hearing. She drew Joe's phone out of her pocket and furrowed her brows at the anonymous caller- the number was unlisted.

"Joe's call." Callie gushed breathily, stating the obvious, fearful.

"But he's not here." Elle commented softly, pressing the call receive button.

A digitalized voice greeted her in the guise of a kind, old granny's speech. "Hello… Joe…"

Elle was a little taken aback when the voice merged into that of an evil witch, cackling away gleefully.

"He's not here."

The caller was stunned for a moment, judging from the silence that ensued. When conversation resumed, the monster had taken on the guttural growl of Cerberus- or how Elle imagined the three-headed guard dog of Hades would sound like. "Not here? Get him here!"

"I don't know where he is. I can always leave a message." She sounded so casual that she shocked even herself- in actuality, she was a little more than unnerved.

"Leave a message? Who are you then? Don't lie… for I'll know." He was a petulant child now. This man loved his toy. "I always know!"

"I'm Elle, his partner."

"Ah. Long raven hair. Pretty, pretty…" Now he was the witch again. The voice switching was giving her a headache. "I'll make an exception this time. You do what I say and you may be able to save Hallie. Tell Joe to meet me alone in Warehouse 18, down by WaterCooper's Street in Porter's Bay in an hour or Hallie's dead."

"I can't get him…I don't know where he is. And I don't think he can be there in an hour…" Elle tried to reason. "I'll go in his place. How about that? I can be there in…"

The phone disconnected abruptly. Elle hurriedly told Callie to call the airlines and they found out that the next flight to Bayport would leave in two hours time- they reserved two seats, just in case.

As Elle was about to call Fenton to tell him of this new progress in their case, Joe's phone rang again. 

"Hello?"

"I decided. For the fun of it, you can go in his place. An hour's time."

"No, I can only be there in six hours at best…"

"Are you trying to play games with me? You're in no position to negotiate! You have nothing I want!" The man sounded like a spoiled princess. "What am I going to do for six hours before you come? Twiddle my thumbs? My mother will be most displeased!"

"Please… ok… what if someone else…"

"NO! NO SOMEONE ELSE! NO POLICE, NO SHIT! YOU! ONLY YOU OR HALLIE'S DEAD!"

"Ok… ok… only me…" Elle calmed the man down while her mind raced for ideas to outwit him. 

"Six hours. That means… tsk… nine-thirty tonight. If I don't see you; if I see signs of police activities… and believe me… I'll know… Hallie dies."

"Will you return Hallie if I go?" Elle asked, not letting her fear slip through her voice to give the nutcase even the slightest bit of pleasure.

"You're in no position to negotiate. I'm in a flippant mood today… a good mood. You'll have to…" The voice now plunged into an echoing baritone, "trust my good faith."

The call was cut again. Elle turned to Callie, her eyes flashing with urgency. "We have to leave now for the airport. I'll call Fenton on the way. Hurry!"

***

Donald Summers' house was in a small suburb in Philadelphia. Frank knew the professor was anything but what his sunshine name suggested and was a little surprised that the shoes would belong to one of the most renowned criminologist in the States.

Almost everybody who was related to the study of criminology would know Donald Mitchell Summers. He penned some of the most sought after textbooks and his researches were akin to Picasso' contribution in the movement of Cubism. The Feds had often sought his help with unsolved crimes, especially the FBI's Department of Behavioral Science. However, Frank found it almost hilarious a cranky, reclusive professor in his sixties with a slouching frame could masquerade as Joe and pull off a stunt like kidnap.

But he couldn't laugh at the mental imagery. Sometimes, Murphy's Law could hold true with amazing accuracy at the most ridiculous of all situations.

"Do you think Donald Summers came out with those amazing criminal psychology mumbo jumbo because he could think like one?" Joe asked huskily as he stared out of the window. Frank glanced at Joe quickly, still worried for his brother seemed to be coming down with a sore throat as well. 

"Recalling the conversation we had earlier in LA? Maybe but I'm having a tough time reconciling a once tall, shriveled, sour faced man suddenly acquiring your macho physique." Frank tried to lift his brother's lips up with humor but it failed miserably. Joe bit his lips together and kept quiet as his eyes closed.

"I'm so tired, Frank. I want it to be him… I don't know. Just to end this thing quickly. Are you sure he's that old?"

"I saw him around in the Center before while I was visiting Uncle Robert."

"And how do we question the professor? He can simply claim that his shoes were stolen."

"He can but we can always check out whatever he says. Don't worry, Joe. We have done this before- they will break if they're guilty." Frank assured his brother with the comforting lie that most crime busters liked to tell themselves. However, criminals were getting smarter, more slippery and amoral. Crime rates were going up and there were criminals who do not break under the stress of interrogation, especially those who commit their crimes for a perverted cause they strongly believed in.

"Well, we're here. Nice place. You can bomb this whole place up and no one will hear." Joe glanced at the dour, one storey house that had grayed with neglect. It was almost concealed by the grass growing tall in the front yard.

Frank noticed that the house did not have a garage or a driveway. There wasn't even a cart around, much less a Toyota. They pulled up beside the curb and as they walked towards the house across the untidy lawn, he noticed that the soil was baked dry under the heat of summer.

_Well, if he drove all the way to Bayport, any muddy soil would have dried as well._

"I wonder if the girls managed to get Dr. Masters on the phone..." Joe remarked suddenly, causing Frank to jump a little being abruptly interrupted in his thoughts. "Is it safe to leave them all alone in LA?"

"Relax, Joe. No one besides dad, mom and the cops knows we're in LA."

"I know… but they're… oh well. It's better to split up anyway. If they have a lead, they'll call us and could follow it up faster than us. We must be real lucky to get the last two seats on the earliest flight here." Joe knocked on the front door impatiently. "I don't think anyone's in."

"There isn't anywhere he would go to. His colleagues said he either stay at home or coop himself up in his office or the library doing research. He's not in the office, not in the University library, so he must be at home. Maybe he's just slow."

"Frank, look inside and look around. This place is neglected…" Joe sniffed the air coming from the small gap between the door and the wall like a bloodhound. "And it smells funny…like… dead rats… oh my God…" Joe wrestled with the knob urgently as Frank caught the implication of his observation and raced back to the rented car to fetch the lock picks. When he returned, Joe stepped aside and allowed him to operate on the lock. Moments later, when the door swung open, the two brothers were assaulted by a rush of putrid air heavy with the smell of decomposition.

Immediately, both of them covered their nose with cupped palms. One-handed signaling was the only form of viable communication in the toxic dump. The house was a small one-bedroom affair but, except for the smell, the room was neat- hardly lived in.

Frank stepped out into the sparsely furnished living space which was divided into a small kitchen area and a reading hall. The smell came on stronger, beyond tolerable levels even, as he approached the wooden, dining table. On a hunch, he bent down and peered underneath the table, noting the interesting contraption on the floor. Gesturing for Joe to help him, the both of them pushed the table aside to reveal a trapdoor with the bolt broken.

He noticed that Joe had stopped breathing and was unbuttoning his shirt. The odious stench was taking its toil on Joe as his complexion blended into a ghastly green pallor and he gagged intermittently. Frank's own stomach was churning and he knew, without even physical evidence, beyond any doubt, there was a dead body lying somewhere in the house for ages.

Following his brother, he wrapped his own shirt around his nose as a filter, though a hopeless one, and then knelt down to lift the trapdoor, revealing the black hole leading to the most dreadful stink he had ever encountered. Dismissing all sense of self-assumed "machismo", his brother spun around quickly, rushing for the kitchen sink as he pulled down his shirt from his face. As Joe retched violently, Frank wished for some Vapor Rub right then. 

Walking hurriedly to his sick brother's side, Frank soothed his brother's back as the unwell blond vomited out all the meals he had taken for the last few years. To Frank, the smell of vomit was considered _fragrant_ compared to the stench of a million dead rats. Joe raised a hand up indicating that he was all right as he turned on the tap with the other to wash the fetid mess down the sink and rinsed his mouth. 

Moving towards the trapdoor again, forgoing the useless shirt, Joe started climbing down bravely with Frank in toll. The moment their feet touched the ground of the darkened space, Frank sensed an overpowering aura of cruel death. With what little light that streamed in from the opened trap door, he noted a dangling string-like mechanism from the ceiling and pulled on it. A dull, orange light from an overhead lamp ameliorated the weak illumination of a ghastly nightmare.

Much too ill from the weather, stress and daunted spirit, Joe supported himself with one arm on Frank's shoulder as he turned around and heaved some more. Frank stood transfix at the sacrifice before him. Even the smell could not distract him from the horrible sight.

A disemboweled and naked body, decayed beyond recognition, was slumped on the ground with its desiccated entrails neatly spread out beside it. Maggots attacked the gouged cavity in the abdomen, the eyes, the hands, the exposed guts… all over, eating it up, making it part of the food chain. Flies buzzed around, settling down to lay more eggs. To the soulless pests, their feasting on this body was but a natural process of the order of the world- they were fulfilling their purpose to help breakdown what had already expired.

When Frank looked down at his feet, he realized he and Joe were standing on crusted blood.

Blood. It was everywhere, dried to a copper-brown shade. 

And somewhere back in time, this rotten mess of decomposed flesh was at the very top of the food chain- one of the most important hierarchies the world lived by.

Most importantly, this man held the key which was, once again, lost to them.


	19. 18

Chapter 18

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

Frank leaned over the gearbox to help Joe push down the back of his seat. The sudden deterioration in Joe's health was a little worrisome and if it was up to Frank, he would drive his brother straight to the doctor and then to get some rest. Joe's forehead was burning and his breathing was irregular but, knowing Joe, he knew once Joe was set on doing something, he would be as difficult to move as a pig determined to remain in the mud.

"Better?"

Joe was now wheezing through his mouth- his closed eyelid quivered in spasms. "No… the freak did this… Hallie…" He waved his left hand limply at Frank, too enervated to talk.

Frank decided it was _not_ up to Joe this time. They would work their souls dry to get Hallie back but it was pertinent that her father didn't die before seeing her. The short walk out of the desecrated place and back into their car had been torturous for Joe as he teetered and almost fell a few times. Frank had tried to get him to drink some water when they were back in the car but with each sip of the bottled water they bought from the airport, Joe gagged even more.

"I'm bringing you to the doctor. We passed by a row of stores on the way and I recalled seeing a clinic. And then, my dear brother, you're going to check into a hotel and rest. I'll handle the rest."

"No…" Joe's eyes fluttered open, overly startling, "Hallie… needs… me… I'm her… duddee…" Abruptly, Joe sat up and stuck his head out of the window, puking out more mess. For a moment there, Frank was extremely fearful that Joe was going to throw up his gut.

Gut. Frank heaved dryly at the memory of the corpse. They had tried their best to stop breathing until they reached their car. When they were out of the malodorous tomb, both brothers took in the fresh air like they hadn't breathed for twenty thousand years.

"Right. Her _duddee_ is in no shape. You look like crap!" Frank reprimanded Joe sternly as he drove off carefully after Joe settled back down, not wanting to jerk the car unnecessary and upset Joe's weak stomach. With one hand on the wheel, he reached for his cell in his pant's pocket and hooked the earpiece over his ear before he realized that his phone battery had died on him.

"Damn!" He cursed softly. Now, he would have to trouble his brother who was drifting off into a much-needed rest. Nudging Joe's side gently, he whispered, "Joe… hey… kiddo…" 

"Wuh…"

"Your phone?"

"Poeget…"

"Pocket…"

"Wight…" Joe mumbled before he dozed off again, unable to fight the fever anymore. Frank patted his brother's jeans' pocket and found the bulge of the phone. Drawing it out, he activated it while negotiating around a bend, telling himself that it was good that Callie was not around to witness his bad driving habits or he would be getting the third degree about how statistics proved that a significant number of traffic accidents occurred because the drivers were too preoccupied with cell phones.

"Hey… Joe… what's your pin?"

Joe shook his head feebly and Frank's gut twisted. He hated having to put Joe through all these inconveniences but he had no choice. He had to report the crime and get to Callie fast or she would worry. "No… bin…"

"Yes… there's a pin… your birthday? Birth year? You're always using your birth year, kiddo…you should change it."

"No…" Joe lifted his eyelids with extreme efforts, "Elle's bone…"

Joe crumbled into sick man's land and Frank left his brother alone, finally, to recharge.

At that mispronunciation, Frank let out a low chuckle. However, he also recognized that he would need to find a public phone fast. 

He pulled up into a parking lot behind the row of shops a few streets down and tapped his brother's shoulder. "We're here. You're going to see a doctor."

"Huh?" Joe's eyes peeled open. "You're not doofawee…"

"Dang right I'm not the tooth-fairy. C'mon."

"Nooo…. Must bind Haawee… Fwank…No doe-duh"

"I know. I find her. You see doctor. Come." Frank unbuckled his brother's seatbelt and got out of the car before helping Joe climb out. Supporting a tottering Joe towards the clinic, he wondered if they would move faster if he carried Joe. But he also knew that Joe would never forgive him if he embarrassed him by cradling him like a baby when he could still walk.

After a brief but tedious walk, Frank finally made Joe comfortable on the clinic's waiting bench and was happy to find that there were no other patients lounging around. It was already seven twenty-five in the evening. Soon, it would be dark and Callie must be becoming paranoid. Even if she wasn't, he was anxious for her safety. He left Joe on the bench while he utilized the public phone right outside the clinic. He made a call to the local police, informing them about Donald Summers' death but he did not leave his name or number- his mind was already decided on the next course of action to take. Donald Summers did a lot of research on serial killers and, as part of his studies, he build up profiles of serial killers. The only logical link Frank could think of at this point about Donald Summers' death with consideration to Hallie's kidnap was that Hallie's kidnapper was not new in this business and Summers might have found out something dangerously incriminating which was why he must be silenced.

And that did not bode well for Hallie's fate. Donald Summers' sole obsession was with criminals whose sins and motives were beyond a normal, sane human being's comprehension. He enjoyed unraveling their dark secrets and wicked desires- exhilarated in the fact that he could study the killers like bugs under the microscope and dissect their minds with a surgeon's precision. If Hallie's kidnapper caught Summers' attention, most likely, the kidnapper was also a serial killer whose arrest had eluded the police- whose logic was far beyond common reach.

Since Summers' house showed no signs of any study desk and even a workstation, Frank had a strong hunch that he did most his work in his office and it was there Frank wanted to explore before the police had the chance. There was always time to revisit the gruesome crime scene or talk to the police about it.

He punched in Callie's number violently. The first three times he called her, he kept hearing the operator sounding too cheery for his liking, telling him that the subscriber was unable to take the call.

_Pick up the phone, __Cal__! Damn! Why did I forget my spare batt?_

_Pick up the damn phone!_

However, he glanced into the clinic and noted that the nurse was trying to wake Joe up to go into the doctor's office. With an unsettled heart, swallowing down his dilemma, Frank left the booth and attended to his brother.

***

_"Fenton! This is Elle. Listen. The kidnapper wants to meet me alone at warehouse 18 of Water Cooper's Street in Porter's Bay at nine-thirty tonight. I need back-up but he's a shrewd one. He said Hallie would die if he sees the police or notice that I'm alone…"_

_"Don't worry, Elle. We cannot jeopardize Hallie's safety, that's the most important. Leave it in my hands."_

_"For security sake, I'm not going to meet you, nor am I going to wire myself in case he asked me to strip as some perverted goodwill. Callie will meet up with you. I trust your acumen in this, Fenton."_

_"Where's Frank and Joe?"_

_"They're in __Pennsylvania__, going after another lead. Both of them are not contactable."_

The two girls marched hurriedly out of the almost empty, humble local airport. Bayport- Joe had promised Elle before that he would bring Elle to meet his famous father whom she was always in awe of and this was definitely not the circumstance that she wanted to acquaint herself with the illustrious private investigator. Bayport too was a quaint, almost confused city, and there was much to see and explore- right then, she was praying that she would not have to _explore­ the Baptist Church's dressed in black._

She did not even believe in God that much. But Faith in the Almighty wouldn't hurt then. She just hoped that the God would hurry up and help them.

"I wonder if Frank checked his voice mail yet. The plane we're on is the last plane landing at Bayport tonight." Callie bit her lips anxiously. "And even if he's taking a plane to New York and then driving over, he won't make it in time…"

"We can handle this, Callie. Don't fret now. He might… well, sense your fear and worry. We can't let the boys worry for us." Elle took her hand and squeezed it to offer strength and to borrow hope. She had some martial arts background but she was definitely not an expert. Joe had taught her some finer points of street-fighting, even taught her how to use the gun effectively, being a marksman himself. But she had no gun and if the guy's as strong as Joe, she wondered if she could take him down if she needed to.

_No. I must be confident of myself. Losing my confidence is losing the battle._

"I know. He's a little telepathic when it comes to me. I'll be strong. I have been in similar situations before." Callie propped her spirit up and smiled bravely as her eyes shone with renewed courage. The sliding doors made way for them and she patted Elle's hand.

"That's the cab Fenton called for us. Let's go."

They climbed into the cab and Callie told the driver to speed them to the Hardy's home first where Callie would meet up with Fenton before they go over together. Elle would arrive in Porter's Bay by herself. Before boarding their flight, they had some time to surf the net and she carved the route to the warehouse in her mind- not wanting to risk being late for even a second. As Callie rambled off the short-cuts to the Hardy's home, Elle couldn't help but feel her gut sinking with the realization that she was the fulcrum that would swerve the case either way- it was too much of a responsibility for an ordinary person though it was her time to perform some extraordinary miracle with nothing but her wits.

_Wits. Where are you guys? Ok. All here._

Her heart pounded crazily against her chest though her sculptured face was a picture of calm. The driver, a ruddy face man, gave them the thumbs up and floored the accelerator, throwing the girls suddenly forward then back. Elle thought his tires would burn out rapidly.

Halfway down an empty lane, a dark figure suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes growing wild on both sides of the road. The cab screeched to a halt and Elle cursed Fate for throwing a suicidal nutcase literally in their path at this critical moment. Timing was quintessential- they were working on a very tight deadline. Though they didn't hear the sickening thud of metal against flesh and bones, the person didn't stand up either. It was almost as if he or she had just vanished. The cab driver weaved his brows with dread as he urgently unbuckled his seatbelt with fumbling fingers. Elle and Callie had already undone theirs, worried too that a life would be lost before the other one was saved.

"I'm sorry, ladies. I have to stop and help the man… I think the both of you should call for another cab," He gushed apologetically- clearly frantic about hurting or maybe even killing someone unintentionally. Elle sighed impatiently and was about to climb out of the cab after the driver who was already kneeling down in front of the cab, out of their sight, when Callie tapped her shoulder.

"Elle, you go first. You need to be on time. I'll call for a cab and an ambulance… and see if the man needs…" 

Elle froze at the scene before her eyes, her bewilderment halted Callie's speech abruptly. Slowly, Callie turned her head to look at what had stunned Elle so. Elle gulped, her stomach withered as she realized they were in an ambush.

Callie seized her wrist in fear. This time, none of them could provide the other with strength. 

The cab driver was standing up shakily with the man rising behind him like the dark shadows of a crow's wings, wrapping the cabbie with the embrace of death. The man was wearing a hood, like an executioner warped into their dimension from the dark ages.

The barrel of a gun was pressed against the side of the cabby's skull.


	20. 19

Chapter 19 ed.

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

"I'm attually veeling 'edder nowh…" Joe almost tripped over his own foot had Frank not pulled him up in time, supporting his swinging frame. The doctor had told a groggy but still defiant Joe that if he did not take his medication and rest, his fever would rise and he would be warded in a hospital with no hope of discharging himself for the next few days.

"I'm sorry. We aren't speaking the same language. I don't understand gibberish." Frank wrapped one hand across Joe's warm shoulders as he unlocked the door to the motel room he rented. "We'll get you in bed and you'll be feeling a grand after a rest, all right?"

"No…" Joe shook his head before wincing, "No west…"

Frank twisted his lips, mildly vexed by the stubborn mule he had for a brother and had to drag a reluctant Joe into the clean, decent room. It wasn't too hard to overcome Joe's pathetic attempts at pushing him away and the fever jab that the annoyed doctor gave Joe must have been laced with some potent sedative. The moment Joe's head hit the pillow, he fell into a troubled sleep. Smiling grimly, resigned but still worried, Frank drew out a thin, clean blanket folded up in the wardrobe and covered Joe loosely with it.

"Sleep tight, little bro. I'll be back soon. Don't worry about a thing, all right?" He whispered and with a nostalgic tenderness, he felt Joe's forehead with the back of his hand, relieved to find that it was no longer as burning as before. The doctor had diagnosed Joe as having a heatstroke, aggravated by stress and the lack of sleep- Frank guessed Joe's panda eyes were a dead giveaway. He wondered if the doctor could catch the whiff of death still lightly clinging onto their clothes. Looking at Joe's mien which could not even relax under the combination of medication and fever, his heart cracked.

"Hawee... duddee get de baddie away…" Joe mumbled as he shifted in his sleep, snuggling his head deeper against the pillow.

"Yup, we're gonna get the baddie…" Frank patted Joe's shoulder, wishing he could stay to make sure nothing happened to Joe. However, there was work to be done. He left his brother's side and made his way towards the door. The first thing to do was to find a convenience store with one of those phone-charging stations for his cell's model. 

"Nessa… Nessa… dond go… puheeze… nid you…"

Stopping by the entrance, heartbroken by the feverish pleading, Frank turned around and his stomach shriveled when he saw the vulnerability spelled out on Joe's tormented features. His little brother had endured through so much and still the past gripped his heart with a yearning of a dream that had turned into a nightmare. If only there was time for Frank to be the big brother.

_So you still love __Ness_. It's such a pity… the both of you had something so wonderful before.__

_But I promise you that you'll always Hallie, kiddo. You'll always have Hallie._

He walked out of the room. If only there was time.

***

"Step out of the car," The figure as black as the night commanded them, cocking the gun in his right hand to show that he meant business. In the deserted short-cut, Callie knew there was little chance of rescue. She caught the shadow of another gun in the man's left hand, but with a longer barrel.

The cabby burst into tears- desperate fat droplets reflected under the moonlight.

"Please… I have a family. A wife and two children not yet five…"

"Shut up! Step out of the car, now, bitch! Hands up! No funny moves now or he dies!" The gun was pressed even harder against his skull. Callie noticed that the crotch area of the cabby's khakis pants was wet. Anxious and guilty that an innocent man would be drawn into their predicament, hoping that this was only a simply case of theft and the villain would be pleased with their wallets and leave them alone, Callie climbed out of the car while Elle stepped out from the other side, just a little more stoic than her. Callie had not wanted to show the kidnapper any fear but her knees were trembling, as was her lips which had suddenly became parched with quiet horror.

The moment they were both out of the car with hands up in the air, the cabby crumbled to the ground onto his own puddle of piss. 

"Please… please… my mom is sick too… there'll be no one to take care of them…" The cabby looked up at the fearsome man and begged with hands clasped tightly together. Looking once at Callie, then at Elle, a sinister smile crept up the thin lips.

"I'll let you go if one of them trade places with you… who will it be… gee…"

"I'll trade." Elle spoke up before Callie could and took a cautious step forward. The night was hot as summer nights were usually, but all three of them were shivering with the trepidation of having someone else holding their lives in his waiting hands. Callie felt cold to the core of her being, as if the man's cruel, languid gaze had froze her insides.

"Elle…" Callie protested weakly but the offer was already accepted. Elle stood tall and steady, a short distance away from the man.

"Now, let him go."

_If only I can see the face. If only. Elle, think of something… I can't…_

"Sure… I always keep my bargain…" 

Callie, seeing the golden chance as the man trained his attention on Elle while still having to keep the cabby in check, dashed for the fiend. She was about to jump the man when a muffled crack cut through the tension and, immediately, a sharp pain shot from her left thigh to the nerves in her brains, opening her mouth in a silent scream. 

She buckled under the pain, clutching the wound, feeling warm blood seep through her fingers. The pain was too much and her mind screamed. With pained eyes, she saw that Elle had used the distraction to pounce on the man. The cabby, now freed, stared at the two girls, his eyes rounded, shining wildly.

_Please… help us…_

The cabby spun around and ran off. Callie finally understood why Frank always said that he would never count on another person to look after his life, not even her. She couldn't blame the poor fellow though, what could he do?

_He could have helped Elle._

_Elle!_

Elle gripped the man's wrists, trying hard to slam his hands onto the granite road in order to loosen his grip on his guns. But the man laughed mockingly as he kicked Elle in the guts from under her, sending her flying back and into an agonizing landing. Callie tried her best to stand but she collapsed uselessly yet again. The only consolation was that he didn't hit an artery. At least she hoped he didn't.

Much consolation that was for now- within the blink of an eye, he was up on his feet with the gun pointed at Elle's forehead.

"ELLE!" Callie shrilled frantically. Why wasn't there anyone? Why did the cabby run away? Why was she so ineffectual? Frank would have been able to stand up and fight. Hot tears stung her eyes as she saw her new friend staring into the barrel next, trying to be unafraid in the face of death. The man brought one boot down hard onto Elle's neck, strangulating her and she tried to wrestle it away, gasping for precious breath as her legs kicked out futilely into the air.

_Frank will stand up. He will fight against the pain and damn it, he'll help!_

She gritted her teeth and even though Frank wasn't with her, she felt his love coursing through her veins, giving her courage. He led by example and she was going to use him as an example. Frank never gave up- if she wanted to be his wife, she better not be throwing in the towel soon.

Barely on her feet, she saw the longer barreled gun pointing at her too late. He did not even have to look at her as he fired. She expected searing pain but felt a sting instead at her waist and the area around growing numb.

In fact, she was beginning to feel a little oozy. Her body swayed. Her legs gave way again as her will wavered.

"Good night, my darlings…" The masked man grinned. Callie slumped onto the hard ground, wishing Frank was by her side at that very moment. Now that she was about to die, she knew, with startling clarity, who the most important person in her life was. 

She wanted to tell him that she could not wait even two months to be called Callie Annette Hardy. She could not even wait for one more day. And now, the both of them would never have to wait again for the dream would never come true.

***

The Fels Mansion, part of a mansion group in Walnut Street, originally belonged to Samuel Fels. Born in Yanceyville, North Carolina in 1860, Samuel Fels was the president of Fels & Compancy, manufacturer of Fels Naptha, a popular household soap. He was an industrialist motivated by a utopian philosophy and his legacy lived on in 'The Samuel S. Fels Fund' which support projects "which prevent, lessen or resolve contemporary social problems", or which seek to provide permanent improvements" in human daily life*. Now, the handsome Georgian mansion not only housed the Fels Center of Government since 1937, it was also home of the Global Interdependence Center and Frank's destination of interest, The Jerry Lee Center of Criminology.

The serious, handsome young man was now waiting in the functional office of the director of the Center, Robert Hayek. Uncle Rob, as Frank called him, was not only a prominent criminologist in his own right, currently helping in a research about society and crime rates- a research which hoped to procure methods of reducing juvenile crimes- he was also an old friend of the family, harboring an utmost respect for Fenton Hardy, his old course mate in the University of Miami.

He had called Robert's cell phone from a public phone booth and summarized the events leading up to the finding of the corpse as succinct as he could. Even though verbally truncated, the gravity of the matter was not lost on Robert Hayek. The rich, baritone with a touch of endearing joviality grew low and heavy as Robert agreed to let Frank searched through the professor's office before the police came knocking on the Center's door. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I really need to pee!" Robert Hayek's booming voice which seemed to be always stuck in the exclamation mode no matter his mood was as pronounced as his wide girth. Every time Frank met Robert Hayek, he swore that Robert's waist grew by at least three sizes. Once, in their childhood, Joe had joked that Uncle Rob could make up a whole audience by himself. Now, Frank could safely tell Joe that Robert's protruding stomach could house one whole planet.

"Ready to go, Frank? I had someone unlocked his door." The voice grew solemn as the hulk stood by the entrance, holding the door open for Frank. The younger man stood up and nodded, following his uncle to another office a short distance away.

"How is Joe now? I hope your brother isn't crushing his skull against every door… one thing he lacks the most is patience and the stillness of deep waters is what you both need now…" Robert Hayek rambled on, still clearly shaken by the news that Frank had divulged over the phone. Frank raised a hand to halt his uncle, not out of rudeness but out of necessity. He had neither the time nor the energy for idle chatting; no matter how related it was to the case.

"We know that, Uncle Rob."

"Ok…" Robert turned the knob and swung the door open with some heavy grief. "Are you sure it's old Don?"

"No, I can't be sure though I have strong hunch. Anyway, he is definitely related somewhat to this case. Thanks uncle."

"No worries." Robert cleared his throat and gestured around the cluttered mess of files and notes scattered all over the office- on the shelves, on the floor, on chairs and the work desk. "I have no idea how you're going to mine through all these."

"Maybe you can help me narrow it down," Frank asked his as Robert switched on the computer. On the password dialogue, Robert keyed in his own administrator's key to assess the computer. "Was Donald Summers researching on something new? Or working with the Feds or police in anything?"

Robert knitted his brows before shaking his head. "If the police or the Feds had approached him, I would have known in time. As for research, Don was an old hermit, very reclusive and secretive. He kept thinking someone's going to steal his ideas and thus, unless he had it almost completed, save the proof-reading, he kept it as tightly under wraps as he could…" The burly man sighed deeply, his body slouching under the tenseness of guilt. "We all thought Don's at home; he likes to stay at home for a long spell before coming back to work when he's stressed up. We never bothered him… maybe we should have…"

Frank looked at his uncle's guilt-stricken face and smiled comfortingly. "You didn't know it's going to happen. Besides, it may not be him…"

"And if it's not him… then he'll be implicated as the culprit… either way… it's a terrible thing." Robert moved away from the workstation so Frank could utilize it. "Don is really just an old, cranky fellow. He can't hurt anyone with anything else but his biting comments if you block his path or something akin to that."

Frank was grateful that he hadn't told his uncle the grisly state he and Joe found the body in. "I'll be fine in here, uncle."

He hoped that his uncle could sense that he wanted to work alone- sometimes, it was faster that way. Thankfully, Robert heard the implied message and left Frank in the office to tackle the mess in solitude. 

It turned out to be an easier find than Frank had expected- the professor was indeed doing a study on a series of child kidnapping which initially seemed to be unrelated until two forest hikers found a child's body floating in a pond hidden in the deep north woods of Maine.

_A search revealed more bodies that were dumped in the pond, weighted down onto the bed by bricks. The bodies were horrendously decomposed the police managed to identify them via dental records and other methods. I am only interested in this._

_The last victim, a boy named __Arnold__ Hunter, was kidnapped in his own home about three years ago. His babysitter was shot dead and the boy went missing. From that crime scene, an unidentified full print, believed to be from the middle finger on the left hand, was found. The print could not be identified. It was also the only case in which a death occurred and the victim actually absconded from his own house. In all other crime scenes, no clues could be recovered._

_After __Arnold__ Hunter, this kidnapper seemed to have stop. Either that or he knew about his carelessness and had taken pains to prevent himself from ever leaving behind prints or other bodily shed clues which could lead the police to him._

_I had the pleasure of speaking to the young Fed agent in charge of this case- an enthusiastic greenhorn by the name of Simon Lee. He was willing to help me and was supposed to let me look at the report. I am still waiting for his fax, at this time of writing._

Frank scrolled through the rest of the article which held nothing much of interest to him. _Fax!_ Frank whispered silently. Glancing around, he spotted the fax machine beside the phone on a long cabinet to his right, its incoming fax tray filled to the brim. Rushing to the machine, as if he was afraid if he wasn't quick enough, the faxed documents would vanished into thin air, he immediately picked up the stack of documents and perused through them, flinging those that were not important onto the already cluttered floor.

_Hey professor,_

_Here's what you requested. I hope it's of use. Remember our deal. You see something that I didn't, you tell me. _

_S. Lee_

With trembling hands, Frank looked through the rest of the few pages that followed the cover letter. He read them until his eyes were crossed. Lee didn't fax the fingerprint over- he must have figured that it would be useless to the professor's academic profiling on the kidnapper.

They had very little on the guy, in fact, nothing at all. No wonder the Feds needed the professor's help. Out of habit, he reached into his pants' pocket for his hand phone to key in Lee's telephone and fax number to be found on the cover page and was shocked to find nothing inside his pocket but his wallet. Slapping his forehead, he remembered that he had left his phone charging in a locked, phone-charging booth on the counter of a Seven Eleven store nearby. He would have to pick it up soon before someone smashed the booth and steal it.

Folding up the relevant documents, Frank was about to leave the office when a pale-faced Robert Hayek flung the door open, his expression a picture of bad news.

"Your father called me. Frank, he needs to speak to you now."

Frank arched a curious brow- how did Fenton Hardy know he was here? Whatever the reason, Frank knew he would find out soon enough. He followed Robert back to his office and took the call, a little ill at ease.

"Dad? How did…"

"No time for that, Frank! How can you and Joe run into mobile phones trouble at this time!" Fenton reprimanded him harshly. "The kidnapper made contact with Elle and was supposed to meet her at some warehouse in Porter's Bay. Callie was supposed to meet me before we go over to back Elle up. Not only did she not show up, but a cabby reported to the police that he was mugged and the two lady passengers with him were abducted…"

Frank had the most ominous hunch as to where this was heading. He slumped down onto Robert's armchair, cursing his phone, cursing himself.

"The taxi was left at the crime scene but some blood was found- Frank…" His father's tone softened with the motive of cushioning dire news with tenderness, as if it ever worked.

"The blood type matches Callie's and the cab was the one I called for the both of them. The cabby too described Callie and Elle pretty accurately. I went to the warehouse to check it out with the Chief- it was deserted, abandoned and no one was around. The rusty lock on the entrance was not touched- it wasn't touched in years."


	21. 20

Chapter 20

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

The laughing moon mocked him at every bend; every sharp turning. He tried to escape away from him but it was omnipresent on that cloudless, suffocating night. God must have showered extra blessings on him as he recklessly drove through the traffic, heedless to his safety. He finally turned into the motel- he didn't even blink as the flashing neon "Vacant" sign lambasted his eyes.

_"No time for that, Frank! How can you and Joe run into mobile phones trouble at this time!"_

He let out a heavy breath, the tears that stung his heart refused to give him respite. Her sweet smile- the scent of her floral shampoo- he put her through this! If only he had stopped her from ever following them like a protective fiancé should have! Blood, her blood was found at the scene. The corpse, which the police had already identified to be Donald Summers' from his dental records, floated and merged into one gut twisting conclusion- this man was not only capable of murder; he was capable of torture.

He probably relished in it.

As he was on the phone with his father, the bricks that kept the children's bodies sunken crushed his heart. Strangely collected even after the call was disconnected and after the police called Robert Hayek to inform him of Donald Summers' dismiss, he bade Robert farewell and then made his way down to the Seven Eleven to pick up his phone. The first thing he noticed was the countless voicemail messages left for him. Callie's message was the most important- the story she told was gruesome even in its brevity. Joe would be more than interested to hear about it.

And then there was Simon Lee to call next. But first, he just wanted to get into the motel room and still his heart.

Callie hadn't said "I love you." He so wanted to say that to her again. What if he never had the chance? 

"_The blood type matches Callie's…"_

He swung the car into an empty lot right in front of the room. The calmness was gone- his mind was in a mishmash of oatmeal and sludge as his soul was lost in a maze fraught with nightmares at every dead ends. His head was heavy- unbearable even. His throbbing forehead slammed down onto the car's horn.

"HEY! STOP THAT  RACKET!"

_Gosh. I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so, so very sorry._

"YEAH! STOP THAT, YOU S.O.B!"

_I'm so sorry… please… please be alive. I need you… I'll be nothing without you._

_I love you._

***

"Frank?" Joe croaked huskily, his throat still a little dry. After some tossing and turning in those disjointed splotches of nightmares, his mind gave up trying to rest despite the drowsiness. Waking up screaming into an empty motel room when he thought he had unveiled a body bag to find Hallie's innocent, sleeping face done up garishly like a badly painted doll, he felt at once lost and even abandoned. He called out for Vanessa only to realize, with increasing lucidity of the mind, that she was already gone from his life for many years- yet, he still started every day with the same feeling of distress, perplexity and helplessness- the feelings that plagued him ever since the morning he woke up to find her wardrobe emptied and the baby's crib devoid of its adorable tenant.

She took with her everything that mattered to him in his life. It was rough, but he survived. It must have been tough for her too. 

And they would get through this triumphant.

He tapped urgently on the windscreen- wondering if Frank had keeled over from carbon monoxide inhaling. Irate tenants were storming out of their rooms- their glaring eyes and furious cussing made them all clones of one another. Joe grinned at them, hoping the old Joe Hardy charm was still somewhere inside, while he pounded on the windscreen. Frank struggled up with bleary eyes staring into nowhere and Joe heaved a sigh of relief- his brother was probably just exhausted.

_Doing the things I should be doing!_

"It's ok! He got a little giddy! Thanks for your concern! You're all very kind-hearted people!" Joe waved goodbye to all them, desperately praying that they were not going to descend upon him with angry punches having lost sleep and other more interesting pursuits due to the noise. Muttering angry words under their breath, the tide of infuriated guests receded into the privacy of their own rooms.

Joe then indicated for Frank to roll down the car's window with a swirl of his right hand to which Frank complied. 

"Hey, bro. Thanks for leaving me all alone in the motel… Frank? Hey, what's wrong with ya?"

Frank smiled wanly, flicking his hand at Joe, gesturing for him to step away. Joe jumped back and Frank climbed out of the car, listlessly locking it. "Nothing really. Don't worry your head over it. How's your fever?"

"It broke, I guessed. I'm not feeling that hot anymore… but my throat's still sore." As if to emphasize his point, Joe rubbed at his Adam's apple and cleared his throat, "I sound like a bullfrog."

Frank draped an arm across his shoulders and nodded emphatically as the two brothers made their way into the room. "I had heatstroke before… jogging under the hot sun for an hour. You should rest more."

"Don't worry, I will. I'm no longer a kid… I still feel oozy though. Maybe I should take my medication again."

"Not maybe. Now. It's time anyway." Frank chided him but there was a strange flatness in his tone. When they settled back into the motel room, Frank immediately laid back on his bed, something he never did before he showered after a long day's work.

"Bro… something's bothering you… any idiot can see…" Joe prompted his brother a little apprehensively- his heart stretched in two directions with fear of knowing and the desire to be informed. Frank simply stared up at the ceiling, looking like he had discovered some Universal Truth spelled out in the trailing cracks on the ghastly white plaster. Joe fumed- he was talking to a block of wood and it was not a good sign. His chest was constricted with frustration at his insipid brother. He felt helpless when he knew there was so much more to be done.

"Frank! C'mon. What's wrong? Can't find a phone charger?"

"Can't find a phone charger? Hah! How hiliarious!" Frank let out an odd, derisive laugh- he sounded disdainful in fact. Pressing his hands hard on his stomach, his body quivered with suppressed amusement.

Frank's incongruous reply startled him for a moment. With mouth gaping open, he wondered if his brother had suddenly snapped under the strain of having to work alone while he was sick. Worry hastily blasted through his veins when Frank suddenly covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

"Frank… hey… bro…" Joe stumbled out his bed to sit on the edge of Frank's. He laid a calming hand on Frank's shoulder, pressing his lips together in guilt at jumping on Frank when it was so obvious that his brother was under so much pressure.

"I'm sorry. What's wrong? We're partners right?"

"Boy… you're going to really hate this news! Guess what?" Frank uncovered his face- his voice pitched at a much higher, frivolous timbre. "While we were gone, Elle and Cal received a call from our friendly neighborhood kidnapper on your cell phone! Next, somehow, your girlfriend struck a deal with him and was supposed to meet him alone in some ramshackle warehouse. Callie's supposed to meet dad so they could go off separately to Porter's Bay to provide back-up for Elle. Wait, that's not all…here's the best part!" Frank threw his hands up in the air in the guise of an entertainer announcing the finale.

"They never showed! A cabby with piss-stained pants ran to the police station to report a case of mugging. His lady passengers were missing and it's the same cab that dad called for Elle and Callie…" His brother's voice plunged into a lowly ominous tone, "As fate would have it… blood found at the crime scene matched Callie's type."

Paralysis gripped Joe tightly as he sat extremely still on his bed. Elle and Callie-kidnapped. His brother- acting mad. Hallie- gone for too long.

His lower lip quavered with a dangerous hopelessness. There they were in Pennsylvania and those they cared about could be wiped off the face of the planet for all they knew! The shadow of bleakness was dispelled by the fire of rage. Frank! Frank shouldn't be acting crazy at this moment! He needed Frank more than ever. How dare Frank present him with a picture of poor faith now!

"Get up, you idiot! Stop wallowing!" Joe shook his brother's shoulders roughly. "You're always telling me stay calm and collected, to use my brains and not let my anger get the better of me. Now! You measure up to the same expectations you heap onto my shoulders, get that? Get up! Get up and wash that tired face! We have some rescuing to do and we will do it!"

Frank buried his face in his hands again as he groaned with the agony of self-inflicted guilt. "It's me, Joe. I placed her into this mess. I allowed her, without even a word of displeasure, to follow us. You don't understand… that woman! That woman will die for me! And I led her into the fiend's hands…"

"AND HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?" Joe railed at his brother, slapping him verbally with a sobering blow. "Hallie's still missing! Elle's my partner! Hell! Hallie's MY LIFE! I care for all them like you do so you have no right to give up on me now! You better tell me what you found out or I'll…I'll…" Joe's right fist, poised over Frank's stunned face, trembled with fury and shame.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.__ Ten._

He unclenched his fist and abruptly jumped to his feet. Feeling feverish once again with the heady sense of confusion and blameworthiness, Joe sagged down onto the chair, folding his upper body onto the dressing table's top. The air was heavy with a familiar, weary silence- the only sounds to be heard were the ragged breathing of both brothers.

"The corpse's Summers. This is what I found out from his office. It seemed as if he was profiling a serial kidnapper…"

As he listened to his brother's monotonous recounting, Joe propped up his head and took in every word, his own mind racing for a glimmer of something. Looking away from his own sullen image in the mirror, he turned and faced Frank who was busily clicking away on his Palm with the same old determination and intellect radiating out from those deep brown eyes which never knew what the word, 'quit', meant.

Those same brown eyes he found the glimmer of hope from. Elle once sardonically told him that hope was the denial of reality and Joe had playfully countered her by saying that reality was but an illusion crafted by perception.

Frank's eyes which made contact with his for a fleeting moment was neither in denial nor delusional. They smoldered with everything his brother- the person he hero-worshipped since he was a baby most probably- was. And they glowed mutedly with the silent apology.

Joe could understand. Everyone could have their moments of vulnerability once in a while. Frank too was human, maybe more so than he was.

"I'm sorry, big bro." Joe spoke softly. Frank looked up from the Palm, irritated at being interrupted.

"Sh… listen carefully. I don't like to repeat myself. Maybe you'll like to sit nearer to me, so I don't have to raise my voice."

"Roger!" Joe sprung to his feet and scampered to his brother's side. Frank smiled at him resignedly, shaking his head.

"We're going to get him, right Frank?" Joe asked in a smaller voice, hoping Frank could inject him with the resolution he badly wanted to hear.

"Of course. Without question. We'll get him and he will taste justice. And we'll get our girls back alive, kiddo. They will come back to us alive and in one piece."


	22. 21

Chapter 21

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

_"Frank, we have managed to contact Dr. Masters. This is the gruesome part. Twenty eight years ago, he did a third trimester abortion on a young lady. The fetus came out alive and before they could… well… someone took it away. A few years ago, he received letters sent in pretty parcels, cushioned on top of pigs' ovaries. He kept mentioning that he was the one who escaped, who adapted to his new surroundings… something about walking in the realm of the living when he was bonded to the dead- snakes shedding skin, taking on a new identity but retaining a same, old vengeful soul. Sounds like a guy who read too much horror."_

"I do not like the sound of this," Joe announced jadedly after hearing the voicemail Callie left behind for the umpteenth time, "I do not like the sound of this… this…especially the snake part."

Frank twisted his lips in discomfiture, sharing the same sentiments with his brother as they drove to meet up with Agent Simon Lee early in the morning. He had called the agent, grateful and surprised that the agent was still in his office and actually greeted Frank, a stranger, with exuberating youthfulness. Long associating Fed agents with descriptions like stiff, overly intense, weary, condescending and other blahs, a stereotype which the television programs had to take huge chunk of blame for, Frank almost thought that he was speaking to the agent's son or something.

However, the number belonged to the Bureau and Frank was pretty sure that little kids were not allowed in the Bureau. Simon Lee had been cheerful at hearing from a stranger at close to twelve midnight but the news of death always managed to leave someone speechless- scrambling for the right words to say that would not sound too disrespectful. 

Frank merely introduced himself and stated his motive- he wanted a copy of the fingerprint. After hearing Frank's story and finding the name 'Hardy' minutely familiar, Simon called back after doing "the checks" and arranged to meet the Hardys in a café in Arch Street, Philadelphia. Somehow, Frank wasn't surprised at his choice of location- from the telephone number; he kind of deduced that Simon Lee was stationed in the FBI's field office in 600 Arch Street, Philadelphia. 

"Well, here we are." Frank turned into a parking lot as Joe looked around him, the right side of his lips curled up quizzically. 

"Say, Frank. Is it going to rain? Everything looks so dark."

Despite their predicament, Frank chuckled, a little amazed that Joe, going on to twenty four soon, could still be as absentminded and goofy as before.

"Nope. There's something wrong with your eyes."

"What?" Joe turned to Frank, looking a little like a clueless Spiderman with his silver-lens wraparound shades.

Sighing in resignation, Frank lifted Joe's shades off his eyes and placed it on the dashboard. "I didn't know you had _plastic_ surgery. I kinda prefer you with normal eyes."

Joe's cheeks turned scarlet as he scratched the back of his head and mumbled to himself incoherently. Frank thought he heard something like 'doofus' but decided to let up on his brother. They climbed out of the car and stepped inside the nondescript café. Frank looked out for a 5 feet 10, dirty-blond haired man with a wiry frame woofing down two servings of bacon and eggs, as Simon jokingly described himself. It wasn't hard to find the special agent for he was the only customer in the café at seven thirty in the morning.

"Hello. I'm Frank Hardy and this is my brother, Joe."

Simon Lee looked up- he had a baby face pleasantly crafted out of impish features. Smiling blue-green eyes shone with a natural friendliness. He stood up and pumped both their hands vigorously, like they were his long lost friends even though they had never met before. "Frank! Joe! It's great to meet you guys! Have a seat! The coffee's here taste even more excellent than ambrosia!" 

"And you, my son, will soon have a nose a foot long if you keep advertising for me without facts." A kind-looking lady with the same beaming eyes stepped out from behind the counter as Frank and Joe took their seats opposite Simon. She poured two cups of coffee for them even though they didn't ask for it. Frank was pleased while Joe sniffed at his surreptitiously. Frank frowned at Joe and kicked his shin. Joe, not exactly pleased by the _chiding, stamped on Frank's feet, eliciting a suppressed yelp._

"Aw mom! It's the truth! I love your coffee!"

"But have you tasted ambrosia before?"

"No… but I know it in my heart- your calling here on Earth is to make wonderful coffee!" Simon kidded with his mom while Mrs. Lee tapped Frank on the shoulder and smiled at him almost beatifically. Frank's heart was warmed, nothing like kindness from a stranger to start a day. 

"I hope you boys enjoy the coffee. Simon, I'll be in the kitchen and you better not tarry."

"Nope, mom. I'm actually working here."

"Sometimes, I wonder what the Bureau sees in you." Mrs. Lee shook her head in feigned pity as she retreated back into her comfort zone.

"Hi! That's my mom! And I'm Simon… well, I'm sure both of you guessed. Want anything to eat? Don't worry… I had my mom chased out all other customers- book the whole place just for this meeting!" Simon wiped his lips with a napkin and let out a belch. Frank was beginning to like this guy already.

"Sorry… breakfast?"

"No… actually, we just want to have the print." Frank decided to jump right into the subject before Joe started to exhibit his impatience. His brother had already very subtly moved his cup of coffee over to Frank's side of the table. Joe's dislike for the beverage would not waver even if someone presented him with a barrel full of authentic Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee beans, something which made Frank, an avid coffee addict, almost bankrupt in his broke, college years.

"Oh yes." Simon clamped his mouth shut, looking at Joe sympathetically. "I'm terribly sorry to hear about your daughter."

"Hmm." Joe grunted. A nudge of his knee from Frank's prompted Joe to try smiling.

Simon took no offense though. He reached inside his briefcase on the chair beside him and drew out a brown file. "This is a copy of another copy of course. This case is put on hold and currently, I'm not dealing with it anymore since I'm posted back to Philadelphia and it's within the jurisdiction of our Boston office. But yes, I do have the print. We are kinda stuck on this case and from what you told me last night, I gathered you made some pretty good progress. It's a shame Prof. Summers died. You think it have much to do with the case?"

Frank took the file thankfully and flipped through it. "Maybe. The gouged entrails _is not a random act- it's symbolic. I won't be surprised if his reproductive organs are mutilated in one way or another."_

"Interesting guess," Simon winced in phantom pain, "You haven't talked to the police?" 

Frank shook his head, "No, there wasn't time to get embroiled in their interrogations yesterday. I may pay them a visit later." 

Joe coughed loudly and beckoned for the file. Frank passed it to Joe. Hopefully, Joe would not feel too left out of this conversation. Simon Lee was finding it easier to address Frank, unintentionally ignoring Joe in the process. 

"If this turns out to be by the same guy responsible for the kidnappings, it's onto our side. So far, they haven't called us yet about it but I assure you, flags will be raised soon. Man, I wish they put me back on this one. You'll want to speak to Detective Mike Thorton about it. He supervises the Homicide Case Unit of our fine police department here. A dear friend of mine, actually, and not a big fan of Summers having being snubbed by the professor twice. I'll give him a call. He will be more than willing to speak to you two."

"Thanks." Frank sincerely replied. He was about to sip his coffee when Joe suddenly gripped his wrist painfully, almost causing some hot coffee to spill over. Groaning inwardly, the mistake in letting Joe read the case file wailed sirens in his mind. Last night, while he told Joe about his findings, he left out quite a few details. Joe was under the impression that there was still hope that the kidnapped children were still alive somewhere.

"The children's bodies?" Joe looked up, staring at Frank incredulously. Frank gritted his teeth in awkwardness, not knowing how to answer his brother. That was why he had lost it last night- because the gruesome findings had such a terrible impact on his perception of the girls' predicament, Frank thought it was better to keep Joe in the dark about certain things.

_Careless, Hardy! Careless!_

Simon glanced shrewdly at Joe and then at Frank, knowing at once what had transpired but wisely stayed out of it.

"The bodies were found in the same pond… which was how they found the link that the kidnapper's the same guy…" Frank spoke softly; sipping his coffee in discomfiture after Joe released the death grip.

"I know…" Joe raised his voice a note higher than usual, "It's all typed out here in prominent font! How wonderful! Remember the water hole, Frank? Maybe he wasn't there but Hallie was only that we searched the cabin instead of dredging for her body from the hole!"

"Joe…" Frank narrowed his eyes painfully, "Later, all right?"

"Later? Like when were you going to tell me? If you haven't forgotten the lies you told, you wouldn't even let me read this!" Joe fumed, slamming the file onto the table. It was then Simon decided to butt in before he had to witness anymore ugliness. The agent cleared his throat.

"Well…there's something which will definitely be of interest to you. It wasn't me who contacted Prof. Summers for his help in this case, as I have spoken, this case is put on hold since the kidnapper seemed to have stopped his activities. Professor Summers, on his own accord, pulled some strings and knew about my involvement in this case and contacted me, stating his interest. Now, this case is not really highly profiled and I don't think knowledge of it is readily available. You may say that the professor and we move in overlapping circles but I really suspect the origins of his interest in it."

"So, what drives him to undertake this research is a mystery…" Frank leaned forward in his interest, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Joe at the same time.

"Yes… and he never really told me. I wish I had asked him… but… well…" Simon shook his head a little dejectedly. "He wasn't the most pleasant guy around but I really hope he's in a nice place now. After all, he helped us put some of the vilest criminals into the arms of justice."

"Thanks for your help." Frank stood up and offered his hand to Simon. Joe did the same as well, though without the same friendliness. Simon nodded and cocked his head at the file. 

"Ahm… I'm _lending_ you the file… so…"

"Yes. I understand." Frank assured him, smiling lightly. Joe tapped his feet, clearly tired of this meeting and bursting with angry words to say.

"If you need anymore help, feel free to call me. I'm quite sure we will actually reopen the case soon. I'm a sucker for any help at all. It's great meeting you, Frank Hardy… and you too, Joe." 

***

Callie woke up to a rumbling sensation- her left thigh hurt but it seemed to be bandaged up. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but a black void. Blindfolded. The sounds of a noisy engine were deafening and it was very hot and suffocating where she was lying, no… caged in.  As she became more aware, she realized that she was in a trunk of a vehicle, traveling on a rocky path. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back- numbed from the lack of circulation. Her faculty of speech was hampered by a ball gag.

Out of natural instinct, Callie struggled against her bonds as muffled sounds of defiance escaped from the gag.

Abruptly, the vehicle rolled to a stop. The creaking sound of the trunk's lid being open brought some release from her claustrophobia. The suffocating heat let up somewhat and someone roughly carried her out of the trunk and then forcing her on her feet. Wriggling against the man's brusque grip, she cringed when the man found some humor in her disobedience as he laughed cruelly at her futile efforts. 

"You must be wondering where your partner is. Let's just say she's sleeping soundly at home, darling."

She was shoved rudely forward from behind and then, he stilled her to a halt.  Gripping her left shoulder hard with one hand, he removed her blindfold with the other. Scrunching her eyes immediately at the sudden assault of light, Callie peeled her eyelids open slowly and saw that she was standing in front of window of a tumbledown cabin in some forest. Looking through the dusty window pane, she saw the small, tiny figure of Hallie tied to a chair, seemingly sedated. Her once rosy cheeks were bruised and smudged with dirt and the sleeves of her dirtied floral dress was ripped, revealing ugly scratches. Flies buzzed around an overturned bowl of something and there was a covered up box on the rotting table. 

"MMF! MMFF…" Callie wrestled against the man by flinging her shoulders violently this way and that. He kicked her injured thigh and she fell onto her knees, moaning in pain.

"Darling… you see that? You see the dear little girl? You wanted to find her right? Now that you have found her, guessed what? Your purpose over… unless I think of something for you. Now, we have to go somewhere else."

_Where? Hallie! Let me be with Hallie!_

He knelt down and tilted her chin up forcefully so she was looking up in his dispassionate black eyes like twin black holes, sucking in her fear. She so wanted to spit onto the hateful face now that he was not wearing his mask. Small, dead black eyes, a crooked nose and thin lips; he would look pretty ordinary had it not been for the malevolence behind his detached features.

"You're very pretty."

_Bastard! Go to hell! _

"You'll give me many beautiful children."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. As his lips touched her skin, she felt like she was violated by the icy skin of a snake. The brief tenderness over, he dragged her up to her feet painfully forced her to walk over to the car. Gradually aware of the stench of a stagnant body of water mingling stingingly with the fragrance of flora and fauna, she threw her head over her left shoulder and saw an isolated pond hidden behind a cluster of trees.

Before she could note down anything else of her surroundings, he carried her up and squashed her into the trunk again. Callie screamed mutedly as the metallic lid slammed down, leaving her in frightening darkness again.

_Have faith, Callie. Frank will find you. He will! _

_And when he does, you have to lead him to Hallie if he hadn't found her yet. Think, Callie. Think!_

As the car rolled away, Callie closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of the car's speed and regain her bearings.

Then she did the only thing she could. She started counting.


	23. 22

Homecoming_Chapter 22

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

_Why kill Donald Summers? Why do you have to wear his shoes? Because they caught your fancy?_

_Fetus. Came out alive. Almost impossible but… once again, we have our dear Murphy Law. But even if you did come out alive, you will have most probably died. Even babies being birthed prematurely in this time when medical science is far more advanced have to fight desperately hard for their lives._

_Donald Summers. You killed him, most probably. I'll have to find out why. But you wore his shoes._

_You wore his shoes._

Frank made his solitary way to the Philadelphia's Police Department for his appointment with Detective Thorton. He wondered how Joe was doing- his brother was gone for almost an hour with Simon Lee over to Maine to check out the pond where the bodies were found years ago. Frank had been reserved on his positivism on that prospect but Joe was ready to kick down all doors. 

The brothers had returned to the motel after meeting up with Simon and faxed the print over to Con. Using an investigative software, Con Riley compared the full print with the partial prints Frank lifted and they were a match. The positive verification should excite any investigators, at least, Riley was, but all it left for his brother and him was a feeling of barrenness - and some fear.

"_I just can't stand him. 'And you too, Joe',_" _Joe spat sarcastically in the middle of their discussion in the motel room, trying to decide the most fruitful paths they would embark on since time was running out. Joe was sitting on his bed, grumbling at times about a terrible headache from the heat while Frank was standing by the dressing table with a fax copy of Con's extremely speedy reply._

"_C'mon, Joe. He's a nice guy." Frank spoke in a low breath, covering the mouthpiece of the phone just in case Simon Lee picked it up and heard Joe's insults. Joe snorted. He loved to befriend friendly people but he didn't like the way 'amiable' Simon Lee disregarded him._

_"He addressed me like some freaking afterthought! And you! Why didn't you tell me about the bodies? I can take it! This is serious, Frank!" _

_"This is no time for your tirades. I promise… when this is over, I'll let you beat me up."_

_"I do not want to beat you up, brother. I just… forget it. I don't know what I want. I just want a stomach that won't give me trouble now."_

_Frank chuckled humorlessly before raising a hand to shut Joe up. He greeted the person on the other line sincerely, "Hi, Simon. This is Frank… yes, great to hear from you too… my brother? Ah… well, I just want to tell you that the prints were a match. I can fax you the relevant details but we may not have time for that. I'll need your help to coordinate something. We'll like to take a look at the pond where the bodies were found a few years ago." _

Simon thought it was worth a shot. He actually suspected that the kidnapper was a native to the small town in which the forest was close to or, at least, a local in the surrounding cities and towns for the pond was so deep in the forest that anyone unfamiliar with the layout of the town would be lost immediately. However, by the time the bodies were dredged up, the trail of the kidnapper had run cold and the police couldn't get a handle on anyone.

Joe gave the final word by saying he had a gut feeling. Frank let Joe go, knowing his brother, at times, could be uncannily psychic but he hoped that Joe would find the girls alive and not dead. Besides that gut feeling of his brother, Frank could not deny that criminals were known to revisit the crime scenes out of some nostalgia or perverted pride. Maybe, even if the pond did not yield results, they might gather something from the locals. Whatever it was, at least Frank was here, searching out the kidnapper from another angle. They would not be wasting too much time if either path ended up in a dead end.

He rapped on the Detective's office's door- the impatience in his actions was a perfect replica of his brother's impetuousness. The Detective was either deaf or he was just patronizing Frank on the phone. If there weren't so many police officers around, Frank would have bang on the door with a sledgehammer just to be invited in.

"Come in." An authoritative voice boomed out suddenly. Letting out sigh of annoyance, Frank recomposed himself and tried to smile before he swung the door open. A burly man with brown hair and graying sideburns sat behind a clean, white desk, reading a case file frowningly.

Frank immediately assessed that the Detective was efficient- maybe even a little cold. His office was too neat and organized- everything was the default white- from the walls to the desk to the window blinds. 

Then he smiled a little at the empty donut box on top of the Detective's side cupboard. Somehow, just that sight was enough to make the man seemed less imposing.

"Hello, Sir. I'm Frank Hardy. We spoke on the phone earlier."

Detective Thorton glanced at Frank from beneath his glasses, still frowning. When he had sized Frank up, he smiled grimly.

"Oh, yes. Frank. Please sit. This is regarding Summers' case right? My men are working hard on it as we speak. I've been informed by a mutual friend about your plight and I'm deeply apologetic. What can I do for you?" Detective Thorton sat up straight as he brushed away, what appeared to be, donut crumbs.

"Well, for starters, did you guys find out anything of interest from the crime scene or on the body? Some clue about why, how and when the murder occurred?" Frank took out his Palm after he made himself comfortable on the seat opposite Thorton. He only hoped that Simon had pulled enough strings for them on Thorton.

"Yes, actually. The body was left in that state for slightly over two weeks. Simon asked me an interesting question actually; he asked if the man's reproductive organs were mutilated. It was. How did you come to that conclusion? It wasn't noticeable at first glance."

"First glance?" Frank blurted out as the detective leaned back and smiled satisfactorily. 

"I gathered- two private investigators with personal agendas in town who knew about the murder before the press got hold of it…"

"Oh… yes… well… I'm sorry about…"

"About leaving an anonymous report?"

"Yes… I…" Frank shrugged, letting out a defeated chuckle. "We didn't want to get embroiled in an interrogation when we have something more important to look into and my brother was very sick. I hope you understand my predicament."

"I do. This was why I agreed to this meeting. I don't really have much patience for PIs who didn't know what they were doing and end up sabotaging cases…"

"Well, we haven't sabotage anything yet." Frank hunched over and clasped his hands together contemplatively, "In fact, if we work together, it benefits the both of us. And you can see I do not have time to trade banters. I have my reasons for coming to the conclusions that I did though I do not have facts to back them up yet. I am thinking about the professor's unfinished profiling done on a serial kidnapper…"

"Yes, Simon briefed me about it. And you're thinking the serial kidnapper is the same person who kidnapped your loved ones as well…"

"Not only that, we think he's linked to the murder as well… it's pretty obvious. Simon mentioned something about finding out why the professor knew about the serial kidnapping which the Feds had kept pretty low profiled. I guess I was hoping the police would have an answer." Frank shook his head, smiling a little embarrassedly, his downcast eyes fixed on his clasped hands. "I should have known. It's too soon."

"I'm open to suggestions. And I'm going to bend the rules. There's something on your mind." Detective Mike bored his gaze intensely into Frank's eyes. Frank met the eye-contact, stretching his lips thinly.

"I do not have the necessary tools right now and, at the risk of sounding like I'm telling you what to do which is not my intention, I think you should check his phone bills, faxes. In fact, you should run some forensic programs on his computer to see if you can recover any transcripts of online chats he had."

"You're thinking he was prompted by the killer himself into this research?" Detective Thorton eyes hooded over in deep thoughts. "I'm sure that can be done. I'll get my men to do it immediately."

"And you'll tell me the results as soon as it comes up." Frank pierced the Detective's eyes with comparable intensity. Thorton smiled grimly.

"You have my word."

"And it seems that's all we have right now," Frank didn't like replying on the faith of strangers but right now, he had not much choice. However, Thorton seemed like a man of his word which was just about the only consolation Frank found. 

"And more. I have actually run through the victim's phone and fax bills for the past few months and there isn't anything of suspicions. But the chat line, message board etc. is something I have neglected. If you'll wait here, I'll call my technical guy and we can go over right now to the professor's office and run those programs. It's faster than to haul the thing back here."

Frank was extremely grateful at the open gesture and his surprise must have been flashing on his mien for Thorton smiled sardonically before commenting in a grudging tone.

"Simon and I go a long way back. And you're right. Helping you will eventually help me crack this too. The professor is a prominent figure and no one will take too kindly to his death. I don't want my superiors breathing down my neck. Just assure me you have something up your sleeves, kid, that you'll be willing to share."

_Donald Summers. Male reproductive organs mutilated. Symbolic? Of course. I didn't make that guess for fun._

Frank didn't know what half-baked ideas and deductions were worth but he was confident of his own gut feelings. "Yes, I do."

***

Moments later, Frank was in the Professor's office with Thorton, his and Robert Hayek who gave them assess to the professor's computer. The three of them hovered around a sloppily dressed, bespectacled young man, around Joe's age probably, who was typing speedily onto the keyboard with one hand while maneuvering the mouse excitedly with the other.

Thorton tapped at Justin's, his computer guy, shoulder impatiently. "Are you done? You've been at it for very long."

"Yah, yah, Chief. Don't rush me. You have to be very careful about this sort of things. It's not so easy to retrieve the chat transcripts. What if you make the PC angry? It'll die on you and we'll get nothing." The young man drawled, his lips twisted with annoyance. A slow, satirical smile crept up Frank's lips. He was reminded of the times when Joe would hurry him as he meddled with his computer only to meet with the same, irritated answer.

Thorton was not too pleased by the lack of authority in the guy's voice but he let it passed with a grunt. In less than a few minutes, Justin let out a triumphant whoop.

"There! I have it… all fifty five pages. Check them out." The scrawny young man stretched his hands up in the air and cracked his fingers. The printer groaned before it churned out the pages with a disturbing rattle.

They split the transcripts and it was Frank who had the gentleman's luck. "I have something here." 

Suddenly, everyone crammed around him and Frank felt like he was about to suffocate from the crowdedness.

Especially when Uncle Robert's enormous paunch kept bouncing into him and everyone.

_Executioner: You heard about the children's bodies found in __Maine__?_

_Prof         : Yes, a little only. But nothing much of interest as the                   Feds had nothing on him._

_Executioner: Imagine. You could be the one to bring the guy to his knees. I have some insider information that you may be interested in._

"And another transcript dated just a little over a month ago." Detective Thorton, who was perusing through his after reading Frank's, drew out a few pieces of paper from the stack he had, "The Executioner and the Professor had actually made arrangement for a meeting and then he told the professor that the Feds knew that the parents of all the children who went missing had undergone an abortion at one point or another in their lives."

Frank knitted his brows, recalling nothing of this information in the case file that Simon had. And Simon hadn't mentioned it. 

"I think I better call Simon about it." Frank commented, "If the Feds didn't know about it, it meant that the Executioner could well be the kidnapper himself…" He then pointed at a string of numbers beside each nickname. 

 "The IP address tagged to his nickname may vary but we can see from the string that it belonged to the same server. We might be able to find out from the provider which computer the addresses were assigned to at the given time and dates." 

""That will be done." Thorton announced and started calling his men on his cell phone.

Robert Hayek draped an arm across Frank's shoulder, "So we know the killer could well be the kidnapper for certain now. Any new insights?"

_It's you. You wore his shoes. You killed him. You desecrated his body in a manner symbolic to you. Something I guessed. _

_And the letters sent to the clinic- you talked about being alive and yet dead. You think you were supposed to be dead, right? And I wonder, how can you still be alive?_

_You wore his damn shoes! You were filling in your father's shoes! _

_Did you kill the children as a punishment to the parents? They have gone through abortions before. Do you find them unfit to be parents and thus..._

_Who's your mother?_

"What mother?"

Frank hadn't realized he had voiced his last thought aloud until Robert startled him. He gazed at his uncle blearily as reality sank once again into his consciousness.

"Uncle Robert, was Summers ever married or had a fling with anyone about twenty-odd years ago?"

Robert Hayek knitted his brows, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I believe it's pertinent to this case." Frank stated matter-of-factly with finality.

Robert gazed at him with slanted eyes, almost as if he was trying to read Frank's mind. Frank remained inscrutable and yet, confident.

"Don was married before- a long time ago. He was also widowed, a long time ago."

"How did his wife die?"

"Suicide. That's what I heard. She died… well, should be about twenty-eight or nine years ago… around there. Rumors floated around but there's one which seemed to sound quite true. Donald was supposed to have an affair with one of his students during those days when he was not so prominent in our circles, teaching in a community college."

"Where exactly was he teaching?" Frank asked, his heart pounding fast.

"I can't remember… I'll have to check his CV." Robert Hayek went back to his office and Frank followed him, quite glad to be out of the dead man's office actually. 

"Here it is…" Robert took out a file from one of his cabinets, "He taught in Port City Community College in 1973."

"Port City? That's like… right next to Bayport and Porter's Bay…" Some pieces of the most complicated puzzle were falling in place. Frank frowned.

_­__Affair with a student. Porter's Bay abortion clinic._

"Thanks for your help, uncle. I think I need to be going now."

"Aren't you going to wait for the findings?"

Frank shook his head, "I don't think that will be necessary. Most likely, the IP addresses would come from some internet café or other public use facility but I'm pretty sure it would point to some place in Bayport, Porter's Bay or Port City. The location would only give me confidence in my deduction. I think I have learned enough."

"Learned enough? Wait… where're you going?" 

The brown-haired young man smiled humorlessly, "I'm going back home."


	24. 23

Chapter 23

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

Fenton Hardy sat down behind his massive desk, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows which seemed to be focal point for all his thoughts, anxiety and paranoia. In all his life, he had never encountered something as tedious as a serial kidnapper, or rather, serial killer, a term which sounded more fitting after Frank called and very calmly, as his elder son could always managed even in the roughest of storms, spoke to him about the deductions he came up with Joe.

Serial killers. Fenton had his share- three in fact- during the course of his illustrious career. He was actually planning to just take on simpler cases and then slowly retire. He was only fifty-five, but he felt like he had already done enough- it was time to enjoy a peaceful life with Laura and take life easy. After all, his boys were all grown up now. Even Joe, the eternal child, was already a father.

But Life is always twisting and turning into sharp bends to thwart even the most perfect plan. This case was about to usher him into his sunset years with a heart wrenching climax.

He sighed, thinking of his grand-daughter who loved to pester him endlessly about the things that she knew. She would follow him untiringly, her little feet pattering about behind his steady footsteps as her shrill, little voice announced to the whole world all that she had learned.

_"Papa! Papa! Do you know that a lion has a lifespan of twelve to fourteen years?" Hallie tugged at his pants, emerging out from nowhere, as he sorted out the mails, gazing up at him with bright blue eyes screaming for attention._

_"Nope, I don't think I do." He looked down at her and smiled affectionately, setting the mails aside as he bent down and scooped her chubby, little body in his arms which seemed huge to her. "Do you know that the largest animal to ever live on Earth is the Blue Whale?"_

_She pouted, not happy that he said something she didn't know. A thought glint in her eyes and very quickly, she was grinning mischievously again, "Do you know that Daddy poop smelly gas after he eats bananas?"_

_Fenton laughed heartily and Hallie eyes gleamed brighter, very proud of herself. "I don't believe I do!"_

_"And do you know that Daddy says I cannot tell Mommy, Daddy Greg and Grandma that he comes and see me?"_

_His brow knitted with concern as his voice dropped a note lower. "No, I don't believe I do."_

_"But I tell you only. So you cannot tell anyone too." Hallie raised up her tiny little finger and Fenton smiled at her distractedly as he wrapped his finger around hers. In actual fact, Hallie had everyone wrapped around her thumbs._

Very weary after a whole night of searching around town and then, almost camping in the police station praying for good news, he returned home only at one in the morning to Laura's tired eyes. They embraced each other for the longest time, fearing for the girls and afraid for their sons' emotional well-being.

But Frank gave him some hope just earlier on- in the early afternoon. He called with the most amazing deduction and lead, plus the most perturbing story on abortion. It was made even more unsettling because Fenton didn't agree with abortion. It was not because he was a Baptist, pro-life or taught that way. Or maybe it was all those and more. Something more. He could never explain it and he knew that his family members were not comfortable with the idea of abortion as well. 

But he would never condone another pro-lifer resorting to man-killing violence. Pro-life is pro-life in any case. Keen sense too told him that this serial killer was committing all these crimes for something more heinous and personal. Life now, to him, was like a horror movie gone too terribly real.

The brothers were separated though- Joe had gone to Maine with a Fed guy and hadn't called them yet- most likely, he was still on his way. Philadelphia to Maine would take him at least five hours. Frank would be driving back and if he didn't make unnecessary stops, he might see the cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean at the outskirts of Bayport in later evening.

_"So dad… dad… are you here?"_

_"Yes, son. I'm listening…"_

_"I need you to run over to __Port__City__Community College__ to search for their yearbook- 1973. Professor Summers taught Sociology of Deviance in that college before. Maybe you can ask a nurse or someone who had worked… I don't know. You have more wiles than me dad. Please, find out who was the student Summers had an affair with."_

He sighed heavily and stood up, moving over to his bookshelf and quickly thumbed through his collection shuffled up with some of Frank's worthy buys. He found the one he wanted and removed its jacket. As he left his house, there Vanessa was in the driveway next to his car, dressed in a loose T-shirt and baggy jeans with her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Without the immaculate dressing up, he thought he had stepped into a time warp and was now facing the same, spunky teenage girl who managed to tie his younger son's wandering eyes and hands down when so many other girls before her had failed, gritting teeth and gushing tears. He almost expected her to greet him cheerfully and _lie that she was going up to Joe's room to do homework with him._

He had trusted his sons to know what they were doing. While he advocated that their room's door stay open or at least, ajar, he could not be around all the time to keep watch on them and he had to face it, when kids grow up, they were harder to control. Any parent could only hope the early education done with love, patience, firm, reasonable words and sometimes, a tough pair of cushioned palms which hurt them more than their children skin, was enough. Maybe he had failed somewhere but there was no time for regrets. The girl, no, woman, before him, with sunken cheeks and swollen eyes, told him that he had not stepped back in time after all.

"Fenton, I… I will like to accompany you if you're off to do some investigations. Con called last night and told me about Elle and Callie…"

_A mother's guilt?_

"I've been on cases with Joe before. I can handle myself."

Fenton smiled at her, he would actually be pretty proud to call her his daughter-in-law. It was a pity that he wouldn't have the chance to, after all. "Do you think this is an interview? I do not need your C.V."

"You mean you'll let me follow you?" Vanessa asked hopefully. 

He shook his head; two girls' lives were already in jeopardy because of their association. Elle would know what she was in for- Callie was the one who barged in and got herself into a tangle but he had faith that she would pull through.

If anything happened to Vanessa, Joe would surely go mad. He could not allow that. "I'm sorry…"

"Please. I won't do anything dangerous. You may need my help." Vanessa urged, her unspoken pleas were almost too heart breaking to hear.

Fenton cleared his throat uneasily as he slotted his car key into the lock, knowing that the determination of stubborn mothers was too formidable for him to fight against. His skull would crack and he might even suffer a heart-attack.

But neither did he want her to follow.

"Fenton…" She grabbed his arm before he could climb in his car, still wanting the spoken approval which he, in good conscience, could not give.

"Why not you stay here with Laura? And wait…"

"No. I won't." She replied steadily with a resolution that would not waver under even the barrage of a million 'no's.

Fenton exhaled heavily with resignation, "Get into the car. And stay out of trouble. If I smell danger, be it a hundred thousand miles away, you are going back home."

Vanessa smiled and saluted him before she climbed into the passenger seat of his Volvo, "I was useful to the brothers before in their cases. You can set your mind at ease having me around. I can surprise you."

Fenton shook his head, wondering, a little flippantly, if there was some malfunction in the natural order of things such that women were no longer satisfied to be soft, powdered and pretty. And when trouble came, they were no longer willing to sit back at home and wait for their men to return with news.

At that thought, a self-mocking chuckle escaped his throat. Perhaps he was destined to be surrounded with women who ran counter society's stereotypes. His sister was one- strident old Gertrude who no one knew where she was. Another MIA who sent postcards back every so often. 

Plus, he knew he didn't marry Laura because she was soft, powdered. He married her because she was as gentle as a lady, as independent as a woman, not to mention, the strongest and most beautiful person he had ever known. 

He only hope he could come back to her with something that could light up the shadows on her face- the same shadows on all their faces.

***

_She woke up, disorientated. Cereals again, phooey!  She hadn't been able to walk for a few days now since she was tied and she was very thirsty. The ugly, evil man only let her drink two cups of water a day. And if mommy was with her now, mommy would be very angry- she hadn't bathe and she smelled funny._

_Daddy wouldn't mind though. Daddy thought that kids were supposed to be dirty, loud and eaters of earthworms dug from gardens and playgrounds. Daddy would raise a brow if she ate ice-cream without smearing it all over her face- even he would smear it all over his chin._

_She didn't know why the baddie would want to bring her to this horrible place. A few flying, buzzing insects… mosstoes, daddy called them, bit her and made her itchy all over. It was very hot and she was feeling so prickly all over. For the first time in her life, she actually wanted to bathe._

_She missed her mommy and daddy very badly. The door opened. Big bad man stood there, he came to feed her and show her his ugly snake, Valerie, again._

***

Kathryn Jones walked around her small flat, blowing toxic circles from her cigarette into the air. Vanessa shuffled about uneasily on the springy couch in the living room, occasionally fanning herself with a real estate pamphlet, one of the many strewn on the cluttered crate masquerading as a coffee table. It was unbearably hot but Kathryn hadn't left even a tiny, table fan on.

Before they came to the grumpy woman's flat, they had made a trip down to Port City Community College. An aged Sociology professor there remembered Donald Summers- the quaint, unappeasable professor who wanted to do nothing but his own independent research. He tutored for two years- teaching Sociology modules to do with theories of deviance- and then suddenly quit. Fenton asked the professor if he knew of the circumstances in which Summers decided to leave or heard of any rumors of Summers having an affair with a student. The professor did better than remembered- he said the girl in question was a star student, a hardworking girl who participated in a lot of extra curricular activities as well. Even though she was in a community college, they were sure that she would never lose out to those from other more prestigious institutions. Summers had actually tried to get her to do a transfer to University of Pennsylvania, which was where he went after he quit. It was funny how he remembered all those things about her but had to struggle for a while with her name. Clara… he said. Then Karen. And then to Carol. Finally, he decided that her name was Clara Bettis. Checking with the school administration body yielded the name Catherine Bettis and a yellowed picture of a pretty, sweet girl with short hair and bangs from an archived college newsletter.

Fenton was about to melt like a Popsicle under the burning sun but he was far more in control of himself. The turnover rate in the clinic was high for the nurses and, actually, they gained nothing at all from the employees working there during the police's first call to the clinic. They learned about the letters sent to Peter Masters from Kathryn Jones. She was the only constant in the now dwindling clinic for over thirty-five years, recently self-retired.

Given the horrifying nature of the story that Frank told him, he doubted that Kathryn would forget, even if she tried. The wizened woman hadn't forgotten, she was merely reluctant to tell them.

He watched her patiently as she paced around the living room, holding on to her vapid poodle. It was also the first time Fenton ever saw a poodle who would rather hang its tongue out lamely than yelped deafeningly- maybe the heat, coupled with the nicotine- laced air around here had permanently brain-damaged the poor doggy. Fenton's lips stretched into a taut line- Joe, an avid dog lover, would definitely think of ways and means to "rescue" the "abused" pup.

"I'm sorry, can't help you," Kathryn finally answered them as her tiny frame slouched against the wall. She bounced the retarded puppy like it was a crying baby in one arm and drew the chewed cigarette away from her garishly red lips with yellow-stained fingers, "Can't remember a thing."

"Kat, please… how can you not remember something like this?"

Kathryn scowled at him, shaking her head vehemently but her gray curls stayed stiffly in place. "No."

Vanessa looked at Kat with imploring, brave eyes, "Please, Kat. I'm Hallie's mother and two beautiful women were kidnapped because they tried to save Hallie. One of them is my best friend. I have much to lose here and you can help me out. Kat…"

"This kind of stories, once told, bring bad luck."

Fenton breathed in deeply- Kathryn was a superstitious woman so set in mythical beliefs that when there were none, she would make up new ones for herself. Kathryn placed the cigarette back in her mouth and glanced around furtively. "Some nurses quit because they accepted Christ and suddenly heard babies crying in the night. Others quit because they swore they saw ghosts. I just kept doing my job, knowing it pays me rather well and I'm left alone… Never saw nor heard these things because I'm careful, you see. Kept my mouth shut…Sorry, both of you Christians? Didn't mean to blaspheme."

"Kathryn…" Vanessa walked slowly over to her and placed a hand on her bony shoulder, "If there's any bad luck, let it come to me."

"Now you said it! Don't keep saying things like that... never know who's around to listen." Kathryn chided her, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "She your only daughter?"

"Yes." Vanessa sounded like she about to cry but she breathed in deeply, mustering up her own courage.

The old woman rolled her eyes before letting out a defeated sigh. "You said it. Bad luck goes to you."

"I promise."

Fenton wanted scream at the ridiculous logic but he kept his mouth shut- some people would find rationality in the most unreasonable reasoning.

Kathryn nodded, "Ok. I remember. Twenty eight years ago, a couple. One middle-age man and a young lady. The young lady was crying- her stomach was so big but the middle-age man gave Peter a lot of money. He's a writer or something. So they did it. The fetus was dead when it came out but the other nurse claimed it was alive later, scaring the shit out of Peter who was a little shaken by the whole thing. We left the fetus on a side table to wrap it up and suddenly, the lights went off and there's a lot of noise, clamoring… it was real creepy. When it came back on, the fetus' gone. And then, it returned in someone else's body to take revenge on Peter."

"Someone else's body?" Fenton Hardy looked at her quizzically but she simply shrugged. 

"Why ask me? I ain't no doctor or scientist! The fetus gone! Just like that!"

"If I were to ask you if there's anyone who might have taken the fetus, who do you think it would be?"

She twisted her lips in annoyance, giving Fenton a deadpanned look. "Who do you think I am? A seer?"

"C'mon, Kat…" Fenton voice grew low and weary, "Help me out here. Hallie's my grand-daughter."

"I know. How many times must you play to my sympathies? Considering where I work in, I ain't no time for tears!"

"Kat… I'm begging you…" Vanessa took her free hand and gestured around the place. "I'll clean up your house, feed your lovable dog…"

"Clean up my house? Maybe get me a new sofa, coffee table… kitchen stove and I'll love a nice, new fan... the ceiling kind… in every room." Kathryn looked at her shrewdly. Fenton rolled his eyes. She was going to milk Vanessa for all it was worth.

"Yes… anything you want." Vanessa nodded vigorously. "Anything."

Kathryn smiled mirthlessly, "All right. I remember that night- there was a girl with hair as golden as the young lady's loitering outside the clinic. They looked alike… I don't know. It was very dark already and the area outside the clinic was never well-lit. Could be her. I had a hunch. She was gone after the mayhem started."

"One more question, Kat…" Fenton pulled out the most unflattering picture (because it looked exactly like its owner) of Donald Summers found on the inside of the book jacket he lifted and the picture of Catherine Betties. He struggled up and walked over to Kat. She threw him a disparaging look as he presented her with both the pictures.

"Is this the middle-aged man and the girl who came into the clinic for that third trimester abortion?"

Kathryn looked as if she had seen ghosts when she finally glimpsed the photos. She snatched the jacket and the picture, studying them with a horrified expression. Glaring at Fenton Hardy fiercely, she hissed, "If you know so much already, why ask me?"

"So the pictures' theirs?"

"Yes! Thank you very much, now go!" She shooed them out of her flat, especially Vanessa. In a cackling voice, she spoke to the younger woman tersely, blocking the entrance to her flat with her skinny frame. 

"The bad luck's on you now! Take it and leave me alone."

Kathryn slammed the door shut in their faces.

Fenton draped his arm across Vanessa's quivering shoulders- if she hadn't believed Kathryn before, she might be a little affected now.

"C'mon, sweetheart. She's talking rubbish, you know that."

Vanessa looked up at him bravely, "As long as the bad luck's on me and not Hallie, I don't really care."


	25. 24

Chapter 24

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

Humorist Will Rogers once observed, ""Did you ever see a place that looked like it was built to enjoy? Well this whole state of Maine looks that way." Joe, a person very at ease with nature, had no doubt he would love to spend more time in the densest forested state. With all his heart, he would want to bring Hallie to experience the state where the old-world fishing villages and seaside towns amidst the understated majestic of forests and coastlines of the Atlantic Ocean, would let her immature mind gain an education that the textbooks could not give- an education of the heightened senses reawakened by the beauty of Earth.

They were in a small town called Van Buren, named after the 8th president of the United States of America. It population dwindled around 3,000. Two thirds of the town was covered in forest and, if visiting the town for an entirely different reason, he might bask in the beautiful sight of Saint John River on the Northern Boundary. Hell, he might even walk across the street and step into Canada for an 'overseas' holiday.

The moment Simon had his act ready, he accompanied Joe to Maine. After a four hours flight to Presque Isle's regional airport and another hour and a half drive down to Van Buren, they were finally driving deeper and deeper into a mess of spruces and fir towards the pond.

It wasn't a very huge pond and it was isolated, stagnant with duck weeds growing wild on the sluggish surface. Simon said when they dredged up the skeletal, tiny bodies years ago, they gathered the depth to be around fifteen to twenty feet. Joe didn't even know why he was doing this- why he would be searching for his daughter's body in an old grave. They didn't even know if Hallie was alive or dead.

Two boats took them out to the middle of the pond and Joe changed into his diving gear after stripping down to his boxers while Simon was supposed to watch the rope, being a non-swimmer. Joe tested the tank after strapping it on and was satisfied. One end of the rope was tied to his belt while the other to the boat. Simon made sure that both knots were secured before he jumped in.

Beside them on the other boat, the two policemen did the same on Simon's request earlier.

The water blocked some of his sense and heightened the rest. The sense of touch especially became something he could live with numb. He didn't know what funny creatures lurked beneath the dark, murky water with random distilled rays of sunlight that managed to sneak past the large, dense patches of duckweeds on the surface. Some pond fishes and organisms brushed against him- an irrational part of him thought that it was the spirits of the dead children. Flashing the torchlight at the bed, he began to search for a child's body tied down with bricks.

_Please, let there be none... let there be none…_

The police who dived in with him beckoned him and his heart sank into his stomach. Sucking in oxygen from his tube, he tried not to cry but already, hot tears stung his eyes and blurred his already pathetic underwater vision. He swam in laborious strokes over to the policeman and was relieved to see that it was a crate the policeman had found.

A crate locked and chained. Interesting.

He surfaced and pulled off his tube, treading the waters, "There's a crate underneath!"

"Anything else?" Simon peered over the boat and it rocked a little. Fear of falling into the water instigated Simon to lean back again to regain the balance.

"Thankfully, no." Joe slipped on the tube again and sank down to the depths for another look before they move over to another area.

Then he realized that a child's body was small enough to fit into the crate. It wouldn't be too hard to hack it so as to stack the parts in.

***

The cab drove up into the driveway under dusk's purple blanket. Though he was exhausted, his spirit and mind provided him with the fuel that his body no longer wanted to give. Drawing strength from the reserve accumulated by fear, anxiety and desperate hope, he exited from the cab and strode purposefully into the house. The door was unlocked and when he stepped into the living room, he saw his father hunched over on the sofa in serious discussion with Vanessa who was seated cross-legged on the floor. Loose strands of hair that escaped from the ponytail's clasp plastered down the curve of her slender neck with perspiration even though their powerful ceiling fan was whirling quietly above. They hadn't noticed him enter the house.

"We have done all we can, Vanessa. Now we wait for Chief to call us back…"

"Dad, Ness." Frank drawled a lethargic greeting and their heads shot up with a carbon copied startled glint in their harried eyes. Fenton smiled slowly, nodding at him in acknowledgement.

"Your mom went out to get some take- out."  
  


"Ok. I'm going to wash up first and I'll join you guys later." Frank didn't want to waste precious time finding out how Vanessa's purpose in the house. He just wanted a shower a cup of double-shot espresso and some sanity.

About fifteen minutes later after using Joe's washroom, he scampered down the stairs smelling like a zesty, citrus fruit. The unfamiliar scent actually perked him up a little but he still needed his coffee. The only coffee addict in the family, he wasn't surprised to find that the jar of coffee powder depleted. However, he couldn't understand why. Frank was never one to throw tantrums though when faced with such domestic disappointment. He stepped out of the back door with the empty jar in his hand. Wanting to just let it go but failing terribly, his frustration sprung forth from so many terrible sources mounted and he threw the jar violently into the garbage can. The sound of glass knocking against hard plastic didn't give him respite. It merely served to agitate him.

_GREAT! CALLIE, HALLIE AND ELLE ARE IN THE HANDS OF SOME PSYCHO AND I CAN'T GET COFFEE! WHAT MUST A MAN SUFFER THROUGH TO GET SOME BLASTED COFFEE!_

"ARGHH!" Frank kicked the can over and it toppled down uselessly, spilling bags of uncollected garbage onto the ground. The jar rolled out, as if it was trying to escape from his deadly clutches. He stared as it rolled down the pavement in a skewed path and finally fell and was trapped in the gutter between the road and the curb.

Maybe he was too exhausted, having not slept a wink since Callie's gone. Maybe Joe's anger problem was contagious. Maybe he simply wasn't as strong as he would like to believe.  Maybe because he was still haunted by the memories and scars of that _great_ case he solved.

Maybe because he was nothing without her and now, he feared it was too late to let her know just how much he wanted to be her husband.

_It's not the time to lose it. C'mon, Hardy. They are depending on you. She is depending on you. You cannot lose it!_

_And you need her. You **love her. So you better get yourself together and get her back.**_

***

The crate was hauled up by Joe and the Van Buren police officer. When they safely gathered on the muddy grass patches around the pound, Joe was shivering under the hot sun and wished they could get to some place where he could dry off and change back into his clothes. Simon looked at him with some concern.

"Want a stick to warm up?" He offered Joe a cigarette from a slim, metallic case. Joe waved his hand in a negatively reply.

"So, what do you think we have here?" Joe nodded at the crate which Officer Crank, the one who didn't dive in, was hacking the lock away with a hammer he retrieved from the boot of the police car.

"Can't be sure. The pond is like some weird hang-out place for the kids. Some of them came here to pay respect to the dead kids and babies found here. The visits died down after someone jumped in and almost drowned. Swore something was pulling at his leg. This could be some offering of some sort… I don't know."

Joe hugged himself around his waist, trying to absorb some summer's heat into his body, "Did anyone out of town visit it lately? Or have anyone seen suspicious characters loitering around the pond?"

"Nay, some imaginative kids said they saw ghosts gathering here. But if anyone from some place else came into town, we'll know. Look at us; we practically know one another's history." Officer Clayton, the diver, pushed a lock of dripping hair out of his eyes and gestured around vaguely. His voice had a particular nasal twang that grated Joe's ears. 

"Once the hype's over, hardly anyone comes into this part anymore."

"If someone knows the town pretty well, can they come in unnoticed? Maybe walked through the forest or hide out in the night…" Simon suggested and Officer Clayton stroked his chin before shrugging.

"Well, they might. Can't discount that."

The hammer broke the chain with one final, forceful strike by Crank. Everyone crowd around him, peering down at its contents. Joe heaved a sigh of relief- there was no bones, no chopped up body parts, just some Ziploc bags protecting miscellaneous items like some trinkets and letters inside them. Joe took out a bag filled with envelops and retrieved the contents, careful to make sure his hands were relatively dry so he won't smudge anything written in ink inside. One by one, his eyes perused through heartbreaking, disturbing letters from a son to a mother, obviously dead. The person writing the letters must have led a traumatic life of immeasurable unhappiness. Joe's eyes were stung with tears of morbid pity.

_Dear Mama,_

_I will have made you proud. Are you happy up there? I try to bring you gifts but I can't come here too often. Today's your birthday and I waited until today._

_I know how much you love this pond. We used to come here together and you used to tell me so many wonderful stories when the moon was high up in the sky and deep down in the bottomless waters. I missed those times. Sometimes, when I miss you, I come here and try to scoop the moon up. You used to say I'm silly for doing that. I imagined you telling me how silly it was and yet, indulging me in my childish fantasies._

_I'm risking a lot to come here and give you your birthday present but for your sake, I have to. I know you're around here somewhere. Our house is gone but when I run up the plateau and gazed down on our little town, I can still it in my mind. An ugly red building takes its place now. Nonetheless, in my mind, everything's the same._

_I see you mama, sitting by that boulder, lamenting to the duckweed. I know you're crying because they are lost to you. Don't worry, mama, I won't let anyone take anything away from you again._

_Love, Little B._

And mingled with those tears of pity were tears of anger and elation. A confusing mix of emotions churned in his stomach. He had trusted his gut feeling- it has served him well so far. This was the man.

_Little B. Red building._

It was time to head back to town.

***

_"Your daddy's dead." He told her flatly- small, black eyes taking in her expression of shock, disbelief and helplessness. A child- no matter how defiant or intelligent she was, she was still a child._

_She gazed at him blankly with rounded, tears-swollen blue eyes before shaking her head, but no longer as vigorously as before. Then the tiny face scrounged up as hot tears spewed from her eyes._

_"No! Lying! Daddy not dead. Daddy will find me… daddy said he will never lose me! Don't believe you!"_

_"Oh yes…" He was bored of her tirades. Children were all the same. This one was no different. After the initial stubbornness, her immature resolve shattered when she realized she was really separated from her parents and would never see those two contemptible individuals anymore. It was useless telling children his purpose and motives. He just knew the voice in his head._

_Only his mother knew how to take care of them. His mother would love this brat who was so undeserving of her love. But he heard her voice telling him that she wanted her. _

_The other also wanted her for personal reasons. The other was becoming more agitated and annoying by the day. Fly to LA. Right. He didn't have to fly to LA. It was better to catch those pests in their natural habitats._

_And a part of him relished the thrill of being so near and yet, so invisible to the prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him._

_She whimpered and sobbed pitifully, crying for her daddy and mommy. He wanted to slap her to shut her but was actually a little too tired to do it. Sitting opposite her, he propped his hands up on the table by his elbows and pared an apple disinterestedly. Valerie was dormant in her cage. Maybe tomorrow, Valerie's teeth would be able sink into some meat._


	26. 25

Chapter 25

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

It was five-thirty pm in the evening when Joe Hardy and Simon Lee stepped out of Van Buren's police department with some additional information. They had found out that the red building, which was the town's new postal office, used to belong to a lady called Catherine Thompson. She lived there with her son, Robert Thompson until she died of cancer some years back. The house had been heavily mortgaged to the bank and Robert Thompson had not wanted to move out at all. In the middle of the night, some seven years ago, Robert drove back to town from a trip down to New York. Everyone thought he was considering relocating since he made such short trips with increasing frequencies but a fire that blazed like a cry of anger to the heavens destroyed the house and Robert Thompson perished in it.

They had identified him via his dental records. When Joe Hardy left the Chief police's office, he was ashen-faced. His palms sweated profusely and his mind was in a whirl. 

At five forty-five pm, they reached the local high school and checked out the yearbooks for a picture of Richard Thompson. A dead man was what Joe thought of the moment he saw the brooding face with small, intense black eyes. They were chasing after a dead man. 

"I know him." Joe announced quietly after he studied the small, passport sized photo among many others. The puzzles were all falling in place. He may not know the motive but he knew the guy. As for Richard Thompson's new identity, he had no idea at all.

"Impossible. He's dead." Simon Lee gazed at Joe quizzically but the blond-haired young man was stoically adamant. His narrowed eyes glared at the photo with promises of impending justice.

"He used to be a janitor at the place where I go for my anger management classes. A few months earlier, a new janitor took his place. Think he quit. Dental records can be faked. Maybe he switched his with somebody else's. Somebody no one would miss." 

They thanked the teacher who had let them into the school's grounds and assisted them in searching for the correct yearbook. Once outside the staff's office, Simon Lee called the Bureau to check out the employment records of the Family Help Center where Joe went for his anger management classes and, with clipped efficiency, they obtained the name of a janitor who quit six months ago. Further checks revealed his current address and work place, the local hospital in Porters' Bay where he worked as a nurse. 

At six fifty-eight, Joe Hardy called his brother with the information. The two brothers spoke and discussed options in low, somber tones. Finally, Joe Hardy disconnected the call and the two men booked the last flight out of Presque Isle to Bayport. Frank Hardy called Simon's mobile on their drive down to the neighboring city and informed them of the Bayport Police's course of action to arrest Terry Birch, a.k.a., Robert Thompson. Joe Hardy knew he couldn't make it home in time to join in the action but he crossed his fingers during the entire journey, hoping to return home to see his daughter running to him and the kidnapper caught behind bars.

At twelve-thirty a.m., they arrived in Bayport. Upon arrival, Simon Lee needed to relieve himself while his companion waited impatiently outside the johns. When Simon Lee exited from the johns at twelve forty-five, Joseph Hardy was nowhere to be found.

He then received a call from Frank Hardy that the plan had failed. The most difficult part of the conversation was telling Frank Hardy that there was no sign of Joe anywhere.

***

Frank Hardy pounded violently on the door of Ray of Hope, an orphanage in Port City where Stacey Bettis, the elder sister of Catherine Bettis whom he was sure was the same person as Catherine Thompson, worked in. Chief Collig was the one, with the help of Port City's police, who found out where she worked. However, when Joe called back with the groundbreaking information, all of them channeled their efforts to decide how best to capture Terry Birch alive.

_"WHAT?"_

_"Joe's gone. I'm sorry. I stepped into the gents while he waited for me outside… and… he's gone… I announced for him to meet me at the information counter but he didn't show." Simon's good-natured voice had lost all the easy humor and from the heavy breathing, Frank knew that the agent was pacing hurriedly up and down the airport, searching for his brother who had just suddenly disappeared._

A quick but deliberated decision was reached by the Bayport Police Department to ambush the kidnapper instead of barraging into his flat in a destitute part of Porter's Bay because they had no way of assessing how armed he was though they were sure that this man was born with devious wiles. His current name was Terry Birch and he rented a room from a kind, old grandmother in a flat populated mostly by senior citizens. If Terry needed a hostage, he could find one easily.

They called the hospital and found out that Terry was working the nightshift which started at ten at night. His colleagues offered valuable information for the operation. Terry Birch was a man who kept to himself and hardly socialized. However, he usually hitched a ride to work from another male nurse who stayed near him. A quick call to the male nurse set the plan in motion. One of the police officer would masquerade as the nurse while he waited in the nurse's car for Terry Birch to show up in the parking lot near the block of flat which Terry stayed. When Terry appeared, the plainclothes policemen would swarm in and restrain him before he could make any attempts to resist.

Frank Hardy had sat low in a wreck excuse for a car he rented to blend in with the destitute surrounds, observing the scene. At nine-thirty, which was the time Terry would meet his colleague for the ride, nothing happened. They waited until ten before moving up to his flat, fearing the worst, whatever that may be. Terry's elderly landlord told them that he left for dinner and never came back. Frank tried calling Simon and Joe but they were already on the flight back to Bayport.

And then it was with a heavy heart back to his parent's house to discuss alternatives but everyone was exhausted- his father, Chief Collig and Vanessa were showing signs of defeat. Simon joined them soon, his cheerful countenance replaced by a portrait of apology. Feeling stifled by the lack of enthusiasm and not wanting to join in the anxious ramblings, Frank slammed a fist on the coffee table after a spell of silence when tired minds refused to work and set out on his own to find Stacey Bettis. Kathryn had mentioned a girl looking like Catherine Bettis loitering outside the clinic on the night when Catherine was undergoing her abortion which led Fenton Hardy to contemplate the possibility of a twin or sister. He hit jackpot when he did an online people search for Port City and discovered the address of Stacey Bettis and had Chief Collig find out all he could about this personality. Frank had gone to the whitewashed house initially but no one was around. So he figured that she should be in the orphanage.

The door opened and a stern-looking woman with graying blonde hair and serious brown eyes who could have been pretty in her youth glared hard at Frank, "What do you think you're doing? You're disturbing the children."

Frank was not intimidated. If anything, he was infused with a new burst of hope. He had seen the picture of Catherine Bettis and the resemblance between the photograph and this woman was startling.

Exhaling heavily, Frank stood with determination in front of her. He could not blow this- it was only then that the full gravity of everybody's predicament weighed down on his aching shoulders. First Hallie. Then Callie and Elle. Now, his kid brother who he loved above all others. It added to the stress and also, to the resolve.

"Stacey Bettis? I'm Frank Hardy. I'm looking for your sister's, Catherine Bettis, son.  I hope you can help me because he has killed many children in the past and is now holding my brother, my niece, my fiancée, and my friend captive."

Stacey Bettis' severe expression switched to a blank, confused look. It was not everyday someone introduced himself to her in that manner. Frank could understand but he hadn't the patience to linger.

"If you'll give me some time, I'll summarize events for you. But none of them can wait. For all I know, they…"

_No. NONONONONONONONO!_

Frank couldn't bring himself to voice out the possibility but it was something that the pragmatic side of him had started preparing him for in the recesses of his mind. Whatever it was, Frank knew his heart and spirit could never take a blow as dire as that.

"Please… just some time." He pleaded desperately, gazing beseechingly into her eyes as he grabbed her right wrist for emphasis.

With her free hand, she shut the door gently behind her. Her mouth gapped open as if she wanted to say something but was suddenly devoid of language. Fear and anxiety choked up Frank's chest, he could no longer think of anything else to say that could prompt her out of her shock.

"Follow me to the backyard. We can talk there." Stacey Bettis spoke monotonously as she led Frank to the back. There was a stone table with chairs around it illuminated by a garden lamp. Stacey ushered him robotically to a seat and sat down, two chairs away from him.

Her stunned expression had melted away to one of deep concern and cautious. Focusing on Frank with a scourging look, her question came out tersely, as if she was affronted by his begging.

"You do understand that Robert died shortly after Cathy died of cancer, right?"

"I have reasons to believe that he's not." Frank calmly broke the news to her and she shook her head vehemently, nostrils flaring at his insinuation. He had dredged up an awful part of her past that she was most probably still grieving from.

"Are you delusional? He burned to death! I buried charred skeleton!"

"And I may never get to bury my loved ones which he took if you don't help me out because I don't know where they are. Just some help from you and they can be save. Surely, after helping all these homeless kids to find their place in life, you don't want to be damning four innocent people to untimely deaths! You have nothing to lose, I'm the one with so much at stake and I'm begging you to help me here!" Frank hissed sharply and gripped her wrists tightly. She tried to pull away but was unable to break from neither the physical contact nor his consuming gaze.

Her cross peeped out from her collar. It seemed to be a cue. Frank prayed silently before he spoke next.

"Mam, please! Hallie's only six. Joe, her father, only just managed to come home to us. And Callie's my fiancée… we are going to be married in two months time. Elle's a dear friend too. I'm not delusional and I'm not crazy. You may not have any reason to help me out but by God's grace, I hope you do." 

"Do not use the Lord's name in vain." Her voice was faltering and Frank relaxed his grip a little.

"I'm not. I'm really putting faith in the hope that there's still some goodness left in the world. Help me…" He whispered softly as his heart pounded against his chest, almost exploding with the fear of failure, "Please."

She tore away from his gaze and curled her lips inwards. Just as Frank's head drooped down with shattered hope, she turned to him and nodded.

"All right. What do you want to know?"


	27. 26

_"Do not move or I'll shoot you, detective. You're pretty resourceful… but I can always kill you and then make my escape. I have a knack for becoming someone else." _

_Joe froze as he felt the barrel of a gun pressing against his back. A normal, male human voice spoke to him and even though he had never heard it before, he knew who it was. Any idiot would. _

_"What do you want?" Joe darted his eyes furtively around. Nobody was near him and even if he screamed for help, it wouldn't come faster than the shot. _

_"Nothing.__ Just follow me and smile like we're friends. Don't you want to meet your daughter?" _

_"Where is she?" He hissed, wanting to turn around immediately and take a good look at the guy. He didn't need to though for the man stepped out beside him and draped an arm across his shoulder forcefully with gargantuan strength. The gun still threatened his back but it was camouflaged by the bodies. He looked straight at the man with furious, seething eyes only to meet with cold, impassionate ones. _

_"If you want to save her, then obey. Your partner is coming back, the moment he comes out, I'll shoot you and you'll be dead. Then I'll shoot myself and no one will ever know where the girls are. Without food and water, they will die eventually… die in hunger pangs, thirst and all alone." _

_Realizing he had no choice, Joe gritted his teeth and did as he was told. When they reached the man's car, the man suddenly shoved him in front and slammed his forehead against the car frame. Joe cursed himself for being caught off guard as something wet trickled down and stung his eyes, smelling like rust. _

_Blood._

_He was the roughly spun around. Flailing fists vainly tried to inflict damage on his captor and his efforts were further thwarted by double visions. _

_The last he heard before the butt of the gun clipped the side of his screaming head was a mirthless chuckle like a man mildly amused and then, disgusted, by his ineffectual attempts at resistance. _

***

Joe woke up to find his hands bounded tightly behind his back and his feet tied securely together at the ankles. The sight of an unfurnished room flickering under the feeble watch of a weary light bulb filled his bleary sight but, as he got accustomed to consciousness, so did his vision sharpened. 

_Damn, damn, damn, damn!_

He struggled against his bonds but every single movement just served to make the dull throb in his head hammer harder. 

A moan escaped from his left and he turned to find Callie lying on the ground a few feet away from him, writhing weakly in pain. 

"Joe… Joe… she's shot… I think she could be running a fever." A familiar voice, now hoarse with thirst, called out to him. Joe looked up and saw Elle, all tied up as well, some distanced away from Callie. 

"Elle!" Joe exclaimed in a low breath. His partner's hair was damped with sweat and her lower lip was split. An ugly bruise on her cheek marred her perfect skin and Joe's own cheekbones twitched, feeling the pain for her. Callie groaned again and his heart leapt in his throat. He glanced at her worriedly and saw the bloodied, dirty bandage tied around her thigh. 

"So here you are, with Cal. Where's Hallie? Have you seen her?" He asked softly, already knowing the answer in his heart. 

"No… she's not. Can you get yourself loose? I tried but I'm tied too tightly…" Elle jerked away at her bonds in frustration before her muscles relaxed in defeat, "I can't begin to tell you how much this sucks." 

"I feel that way too, Elle..." Joe tore his gaze away from Callie's suffering form. If he wanted to help them, he better hurry. He gazed piercingly into Elle's eyes as a glimmer of hope formed when he felt something pressed against his posterior. 

"Listen, I'm going to literally drag my butt over to you. Help me out… try to wriggle around 360 degrees. I have a small, Swiss Army knife tuck in my back pocket that he neglected to take away…" 

Elle nodded, knowing exactly what he had planned. It took the both of them some slow, agonizing minutes to get into the said position. Each second that passed was christened by a sweat bead. He was perspiring profusely out of the suffocating heat and fear. At any moment, the door could open before he could free all of them. 

With their back pressed together, Elle dug her fingers into his back pocket for the knife. She got it out finally and as she fiddled around with it unaided by sight to flick the blade out, Joe prayed she was pointing the Swiss Army knife at the right direction because he didn't want to be stab in the back any time soon. 

There was a metallic swish and Joe stilled for a moment before exhaling with relief when he felt no pain. 

Elle clucked her tongue in annoyance. 

"I'm not incompetent, you know… Stop fidgeting! I'll slit your wrist by accident." She hissed curtly and he immobilized himself with immediate effect. 

"Nice to hear you all friendly and warm…" Joe jested nervously. He often got into such scrapes before with Frank and he had complete trust in his brother's skills to not accidentally bleed him to death. But Elle had never been in situations with him that needed perfect synchronization of mind and wrists' actions. He swallowed hard, staring fixatedly at the wooden door as he prayed earnestly for speed and safety. 

"Elle, hurry…" 

"I am, you idiot! Let me concentrate!" 

Joe knew when Elle resorted to verbal abuse of him, it meant that she was really tensed up- which was not a good sign for his anxiety-frozen hands. "Ok… just relax. Don't worry about nicking me… I'll live." 

"You said it." Elle breathed Joe could feel the vibrations of the sawing action coming on stronger and faster. He felt a sudden release from the tightness of the bonds and knew she had cut through the rope. 

"Ok… hold back now." Joe stopped her enthusiastic sawing and then jerked his hands free of the bonds. In all urgency, he took the knife from her and sawed through the rope tied around his feet. Just when he was about to start freeing her, a key turned in the door knob. 

"Joe!!!" Elle hissed anxiously. 

Jumping to his feet, needing no prompting at all, he raced as swiftly as he could towards the door and pressed himself against the wall. It swung open, hiding him behind it as the man walked in, glaring at the cut ropes on the floor. Before he could turn around, Joe pummeled down on the fiend's back with hands clasped firmly together. Richard Thompson staggered a few steps in front but didn't fall. He turned around and swung a fist at Joe who not only dodged it but managed to deck the kidnapper hard on the cheek. Robert Thompson growled and lunged for Joe who couldn't sidestep in time. 

They crashed onto the floor but Joe wasn't about to just lie under his attacker to be thrashed. He brought his knees up and thrust them vehemently into the solar plexus his enemy. Flung backwards from the impact, Richard strangely didn't seem fazed. If anything, he seemed angrier. Sensing danger if he tarried, Joe dove down on the hateful fiend, straddling him as he hailed punches left and right of the monster's face. He then grabbed at Robert's collar and pulled him up forcefully. 

"Where's Hallie? Speak! Where's HALLIE!" 

Robert's black eyes glinted menacingly. "I don't know… why not you kill me, dig into my brains and find out?" 

"Go to hell!" Joe spat and slammed the man's head down hard onto the floor, "Tell me! Where is she?" 

"You think I'll just tell you while you're hitting me? I can pick you off me like a fly." 

At the last word, Richard brought his hands up to the back of Joe's head and yanked at his hair painfully. Joe's head jerked backwards at an awkward angle ands he gritted his teeth and scrounged his eyes against the agony. A fist landed sharply on his chin and he toppled over from the impact. He tried to push himself up with his forearms but Richard was down on him in a split second, clipping him hard on his left temple, ripping the gash that had stopped bleeding open again. 

Blinding white spot darted in and out of his vision, Joe swung a wild shot out and, as luck would have it, Richard gripped his wrist in a constricting hold, leering at him condescendingly. 

"Not so tough now, hotshot?" 

"JOE! HE GOT A GUN!" Elle hollered and Joe gazed woozily at the swaying barrel of the gun, only that it wasn't the gun swaying... 

God, his head throbbed. He struggled up to his feet only to be hit by another punch to his gut which knocked the wind out of him and sent him crashing down to the floor. Again he tried to rise; he wasn't going to cave in. 

"You're so weak, _daddy_." 

"Why you son of a…" Joe cursed and made desperate pounce at the man who laughed gleefully as he glided out of harm's way. Joe broke his own fall and, leveraging on his palms, he forced the pain out of his consciousness and jumped to his feet. 

_"Daddy!__ Daddy! I miss you!!!" _

_I miss you too, Hallie…" He scooped his daughter up and kissed her bubble-gummy sweet hair, "I miss you too…" _

_Hallie… daddy won't give up._

"Joe, behind you! JOE!!!!" Elle shouted frenziedly. Joe spun around but before he could make his move, a gunshot rang out. His jaw slacked as he clutched his stomach- there was supposed to be pain but he couldn't register it. 

He couldn't even breathe. 

As he crumbled down to his knees, he swung his right hand weakly out and grasped the man's shirt but the loose grip slipped soon after contact. Recognition of crippling pain torturously caused him to almost pray for death but Hallie's sweet smile hovered before him. He reached for his daughter to grab only air. 

"JOE! Don't die on me! JOE!" 

Joe gazed dazedly into the man's eyes, searching for some compassion in the twisted soul. There must be some goodness, even if only a tiny, little bit. 

"Please…" He croaked as blood gushed out of the opened wound, seeping his life away, "let Hallie go…" 

"You bastard! Rot in hell! Joe… stay awake… don't die… Joe!!!" 

"Let… Hallie…go…" 

The man smiled at him and, in his blurred vision, he couldn't tell if it was a smile of pity, evil or understanding. 

"I can't let someone like you die with hope… you see, it's not to punish Hallie. It's to punish you. It's a lesson… to be learned." The man knelt down in front of him and tilted his chin up. The ground felt like it was giving way under his feet and the nausea was excruciating but he held on against the tormenting waves now constricting his muscles in agonizing pain. 

"Where's…sh.. she?" 

"You'll never know, detective…" Richard shoved him down onto the ground, sending new shockwaves of pain exploding within him. The monster moved away steadily, his eyes hooded over with brooding melancholy. 

"I'll never tell. I miss my mother. A lot. More than you know. I think we have learned enough. They know who I am. Even if I kill you, I'll never escape. You'll die without even a single hope." 

Another shot rang out. Elle screamed. 

Joe's heart was crushed and a pain, so much more insufferable than his blasted guts, strangled his soul as he watched the man fell down in front of him with a hole drilled by the bullet into the side of his head. 

The gun clattered out of the man's disfigured fingers. His eyes were opened, staring at nothing. 

_No… only he knows where Hallie is… only he knows!!!_

Crawling over to the man, smearing the floor with trails of his blood, he felt for a pulse on the man's neck and found none. Weakly, he pressed a palm against the man's chest and again, nothing. No heart beat. He pounded away pathetically, hoping to jolt the heart to beat again. Maybe he wasn't really dead yet. Maybe Joe could rouse the soul for one more shot at compassion. 

Maybe… 

"Wake up… please… please… wake up…wake…" 

He collapsed onto the man's stilled body- even love could only sustain him so much against the massive lost of blood. With his head lying down upon dead bones and flesh, unable to slip into unconsciousness, Joe wasn't spared the knowledge that he was about to die. Most agonizing was the strangulating failure which was just as, if not more, devastating than the gaping hole in his abdomen. 

"Joe… don't die on me. Joe… come on… don't sleep. Whatever you do, don't fall asleep…" 

At that very moment, he felt like a man reaching out for Heaven as he was plummeting into the spewing flames of hell. It was true- what they said about your life flashing pass you as you die- was dead true He was remembering his life as he lived it and he didn't think he liked what he saw. 

In fact he detested it because… because… 

_Hallie…_

The sounds grew more distant- it was almost as if he was being pulled away from a dream. Scampering footsteps, sobs of anguish and pleas for him to fight… 

Elle, in the line of his distorted and blurring sight, shook her head as tears, unhelpful tears, streamed down her cheeks as she said something that sounded like, "No…" 

Then there was nothing. No Hallie, no light, no hope. 


	28. 27

_"Catherine didn't want to go through with the abortion so late in her second trimester but she was forced to. Donald Summers made her and promised to marry her which he never did. He's a selfish bastard who didn't want an illegitimate child to complicate his married life and future social standing. She wanted to bury the fetus instead of letting the doctor dispose of it. A male friend of mine, a technician, cut the clinic's power supply while I retrieve the fetus. We buried it without Donald and Peter Masters knowing and Catherine became entrenched in deep depression- suicidal at times in fact. She had grown very attached to the baby growing inside of her. However, she seemed fine after a year and remarried. Then, with my help, she adopted Robert who does look a little like Donald. Robert would have been the same age as Donald's son had she given birth to it. After that, I never heard from her until she contacted me to tell me she divorced her husband and moved to __Maine__ to lead a peaceful life with Robert. I visited her a few times and it was so obvious she was not of sound mind but to take Robert away would kill her so I didn't. And when she died, Robert didn't want to come stay with me. He followed her soon enough." _

_"Stacey, did any one contact you out of the blue in the last few days? Any weird letters, phone calls or alike?" _

_"Funny you should ask because I did receive some prank calls. But they stopped for a while… just silence over the other line as I kept shouting my 'hellos'. I was on the verge of going to the police when it stopped. Got busy and I didn't pursue it but I kept the number, just in case." _

_"It showed up on your Caller ID?" _

_"Yes, why?"_

_Frank sucked in a deep breath, "Can I have it?" _

_"Yes…… but tell me… is Robert really still alive? Did he really do all those things that you said he did?" Now, it was she with the begging eyes, "I knew I should have taken him away from her… but they were so devoted to each other… and he just seemed a little too reserved…" _

_Frank had no easy answer for her. His mind and heart screamed, "Yes", but he decided to spare her the agony for the moment. _

_"There's always a chance I can be wrong." _

_She smiled at him sadly, "But there's something about your eyes that tells me you are very sure of yourself."_

***

It had taken him quite a while to get the number from Stacey Bettis. First, they had to return to her place and then, he called his father and had him do a reverse online-people search using the number. The owner of the number was a sixty-eight years old man called David Marlon and the corresponding address pointed to a now defunct farm on the outskirts of Porters' Bay. 

The police, Simon and his dad would be there soon but Frank was faster since Port City was nearer to the house than Bayport was. 

He slammed the car's door shut hurriedly and noted the sole flickering light in the attic of the house built like a cottage. The front door was unlocked when Frank tested it, surprising him a little. But, wasting no time congratulating good luck, he cautiously stepped into the darkness and, when all seemed safe enough, shone his pen light around and found the stairs. 

A gunshot echoed through the blackness. Frank froze for a split second as a Callie's face flashed across his mind's eye. 

_Who's shot? Joe can take care of himself… _

_Callie…_

He snapped out of the trance and raced up the stairs, three huge steps at a time. There was no time for fear or paranoia. There was only time to follow the direction of the gunshot and get to scene quickly. Adrenaline pulsated through his veins, forcing him into a single- minded course of action. All the way up the stairs to the attic and prepare to pummel Robert Thompson, a.k.a. Terry Birch, into pulp. 

_"Wake up… please… please… wake up…wake…" _

_It's Joe… sound like Joe… injured…_

"Joe!" He tore into the attic, almost heaving out his heart when he saw Joe with his head lying on a fallen man's chest. The two bleeding, still figures bathed under the mutely scintillating light which illuminated the haphazard pool of crimson blood like a lake of scarlet crystal. Blood decorated the attic- in long, smeared trails on the floor, on a pool spreading from underneath Richard Thompson's head, on a mist-like splatter on the wall mingled with some brains… 

On Joe- on his face, on his body, on his hands… 

"Frank... Callie's injured too. But get Joe to help first… now! Call for an ambulance for Cal…" 

_Callie…_

He looked past the bodies and saw the girls for the first time- he had seen them but his eyes didn't register the sight before. Confused and powerless, Frank wanted to go over to Callie and hold her, to keep her safe. But Joe's condition was critical- he was losing blood as fast as a damned man losing hope. 

The actual decision process took less than a split second but to Frank, it was the agonizingly treacherous. 

He knelt down and gently but swiftly lifted Joe away from the man and leaned Joe against his body as he felt for a pulse. It was there- weak pulsations pleading for permission to slow down and fade away. No way was he going to let Joe go. He didn't want to guess what happened, that could come later. He only wanted to bring Joe to help. Quickly but proficiently, he felt the kidnapper's neck for a pulse- Frank wasn't heartless. A life was a life. 

Richard Thompson was as dead as anyone could be. 

Ripping off his short-sleeved shirt, Frank noted the bullet hole somewhere at the upper left side of Joe's abdomen. His brother moaned then for Hallie- not that Frank could make out the verbal word but he could make up the desperate begging. He was taken aback, having thought that Joe was already unconscious. The knowledge that Joe was perhaps still cognizant enough to be mindful of the definite, insufferable pain sped Frank's actions in trying to check the bleeding. He tied his shirt firmly across Joe's abdomen, hoping the applied pressure could slow the blood flow, and cradled Joe in his arms before he struggled up to bring Joe immediately to a hospital or any health clinics since Porters' Bay didn't have its own hospital and the nearest one, Bayport Hospital, was at least a forty minutes drive away. 

He didn't know how long ago Joe had been shot- maybe a few minutes. But he knew the golden hour was hurriedly passing them by. Love for Callie prompted him to glance briefly at his fiancée, his heart breaking with what he must do first. 

_Sorry, Callie. I'll get help for you. I promise. I need to bring Joe to safety first._

"Hale…" 

"Shh… don't speak…" Frank shushed his brother whose head was lolling about against the support of his right forearm, "Elle… I…" 

"Just go! What are you dallying for? Go and call for an ambulance! Cal…" 

He didn't wait for Elle to finish. Already, he was out of the attic, rushing down the stairs to his car as fast as he could. 

***

Doctor Rigor sat down in his chair and sighed, taking his five minutes break- it was going to be another long day. Porters' Bay was a generally peaceful town, sluggish at times even. As an emergency room doctor, he had his fair share of hustle and bustle. But being stationed in a health center and not a hospital, there were times when he felt like he was not feeling urgent enough. Many minutes a day, he would pass time ignoring snide comments about his name. Rigor as in rigor mortis. How ironic that his God-given profession was a doctor… 

"Gunshot wound! Get Rigor!!!" 

His head snapped up. Gunshot wound- that wasn't new but neither was it common to this area. Most street fight fatalities occurred due to a baseball bat or similar hard objects whacking against a vulnerable part of the head. Gunshot wound, well, it was almost a month since his last one. He hurried down the hallway, absentmindedly slipping his stethoscope over his neck. Always, he prayed it was not serious because, being a health center, they were not equipped to handle critical situations. 

He stepped into the trauma room and knew he had to rush and wrack his mind to pull off something the health center wasn't prepared to. On the bed was a delirious young man, seemingly bleeding from head to toe. Two nurses were trying their best to control his bleeding. Another man, with dark-brown hair, hovered protectively over the victim of violence, his face a contortion of unspeakable emotional pain. 

"He's shot, in the stomach. I don't know for how long but I took twenty minutes to drive here… please… save him. He's my brother…" The dark-haired man gazed at him and begged him the moment he came in, tears choking in the healthy brother's throat. 

Gauze was plastered on the injured head to protect a superficial gash from the elements and pollution. Most alarming was an obvious hole in his stomach. Without even investigating further, Rigor knew this young man was lucky to be alive. 

Grim, serious but speedy, he strode quickly over to the patient, knowing the exigency and urgency of the next few, important minutes. The nurses looked to him for action and he delivered. 

"We'll have to wheel him to the cardiac room! Hurry! And call the outpatient surgical clinic!" 

"Is he going to be all right? Please… tell me he's going to be all right…" 

Rigor found it too difficult to answer the flustered brother asking for what would almost be a miracle. As a doctor, he could only be sensitive but truthful. 

And at times, most wretchedly cliché. 

"We'll try our best. Please, wait outside." 

How much impact these three words had, Rigor had no way of gauging but he had seen enough loved ones breaking down in hysteria, too worried and anxious to be torn apart from the patient. This brother's face crumbled but he understood. He cast one final glance at the patient- an imploring glance which spoke volumes about their relationship- and, with deliberation, hurriedly left the professionals do their job. 

It was intense and nerve-wrecking for the next few minutes which would be as long as eternity to the brother waiting outside and as short as the blink of an eye to those in the cardiac room. The surgeon, anesthesiologist and nurses, called from the outpatient surgery just next to the health center, had blasted down the corridors in answer to this emergency and were determined in their efforts to save the young man. As the seconds passed, so did the patient's life ebb away and no one had the time or romanticism to marvel about how a normal, almost dull urgent care clinic morphed instantaneously into a full trauma unit. 

No one and definitely not for Frank Hardy, seated outside the room, hunched over with his hands clasped in an earnest, wordless prayer to God to hasten with a miracle. 


	29. 28

Fenton rushed down the halls of the Health Clinic, asking nurses along the way if there was a dark-haired young man who came in earlier with an injured blond. Two of them pointed him in the direction of the cardiac room. Actually, he could have just followed the trail of dried blood on the tiled floor.

_Joe… Joe…don't give up….not now… not ever…. Not ever…_

Arriving at the farmhouse just a while ago, he was shocked, just as the policemen and agent Simon were, to find a dead body on the floor- a bald man with similar physique to Joe and disfigured fingers. Dark red splatters, crimson pools, scarlet trails marked the house with the smell of copper death. Callie and Elle were all bundled up as if they were waiting to be freight off somewhere. His future daughter-in-law was not in too good a shape and a policeman administered some basic first- aid on her and declared solemnly that though her bullet wound "wasn't too bad," it was contaminated and they would have to get her to the hospital fast. Before Con Riley could call for help, they heard the wailing sirens of the ambulance which signified that Frank must have acted already. 

Elle calmly reiterated the sequence of events as Simon Lee untied her. Fenton remembered how he felt then- the coldness of fear and smell of death constricted his chest. A far cry reality was to what was expected- knowing his sons' experience with crooks, he had thought that they would reach the farmhouse to find Joe and Frank giving each other hi-fives and the kidnapper all tied up and indignant at being subdued. 

He was still feeling the strangling hands of a father's fear squeezing his heart. Laura, he would have to tell her… but he wanted to know where Frank brought Joe. 

_Don't let my boy die, God. Please. He only just came home to me. Please…. _

_Cardiac Room…left. Joe… breathe…. If you can't do anything much now… or think… just breathe..._

The moment the paramedics arrived, Fenton pulled one aside and interrogate her about the surrounding hospitals or clinics and she immediately said "Porters' Bay Health Clinic." It was affiliated to Bayport Hospital which was a forty minutes drive away. Frank would most probably bring Joe there to seek help first because the drive to Bayport Hospital would have bled anyone with a gunshot wound in the stomach to death. 

And so, leaving the policemen and Agent Simon to comb the place and take care of the body and the girls, Fenton rushed to the Health Clinic in his Volvo, burning rubber along the way. In the wee hours of the morning, his tires screeched and disturbed the peace of the little town. But he didn't care. He only wanted to be there for his son. 

For both his sons. 

_Frank…_

Fenton skidded to a halt at the sight of a shirtless, young man seated on a pale, green chair some distance outside the cardiac room. He almost couldn't recognize his self-assured, elder son who could seem too confident to the point of being unwittingly condescending at times. The quiet, intelligent boy who grew up to be the quintessence of a unwavering bridge over trouble waters had vanished into a shivering man, clutching a bloodied shirt with downcast eyes dropping bloated tears onto the floor. 

The father, who must now draw upon all the strength and courage embodied in him through the trials of fatherhood, silently walked towards his son and sat down, wordlessly draping a strong arm across the quavering shoulders. 

And his eldest son continued staring at the floor, finding no comfort in the fatherly affection. 

***

Elle sat by Callie's bedside in a room in the Health Clinic, fretting over Joe's condition at the same time. The Health Clinic had the capability to attend to Callie but not Joe. When she arrived with Con Riley slightly after Callie who was in the ambulance before them, they saw the helicopter taking off from helipad on the health clinic's roof and knew immediately who its passenger was. 

The whirl of the helicopter's blade plus the murmurs of the nurses discussing the plight of the "young man bleeding from his gut" kept replaying in Elle's mind. She wet her dry lips and seriously wanted to split from Callie's side and drive off to Bayport Hospital to see how Joe was. Their friendship tugged at her heartstrings and she remembered those times when she had freaked out over coffee stains on their office carpet, crumpled case files and bread crumbs all over the his work desk and how he always managed to calm her down with the sight of an iron and vacuum cleaner. When she became paranoid over touching something that was horrendously grimy and dirty, he soothed her frayed nerves with antiseptic wipes before rushing her to the nearest Ladies'. No other friend she had could be so understanding and non-judgmental, not to mention, grudgingly sweet. 

No one understood how the two dysfunctional people with characteristics at the polar ends got together in the weirdest partnership and friendship without killing each other. She didn't know how she managed get through each day without strangling Joe for messing up something with his slipshod attitude and how he managed to not go crazy at her constant nagging. But she knew just how much she would miss him if he died. 

_So, Joe… don't die! You just can't die…_

So now she was here, watching over Callie, hoping the police, who had split into two teams with one group combing the farmhouse and the other searching through Richard Thompson's rented room for clues to Hallie's whereabouts, found something useful. And not to mention praying for Joe's safety and thinking of words to comfort Callie who would no doubt want to see Frank the moment she opened her eyes. Elle knew she had never experienced multi-tasking as stressful as now. 

She turned and tried to look behind at the window- Callie wasn't in an isolated room- the health clinic was not big enough for private wards. She was sharing a room with two people and three empty beds. However, she was lucky to be placed at the corner so close to the window. Her wound was debrided and cleaned, her fever had broken with the medication. And she was perhaps the most fortunate among them to be able to sleep. Elle was awake for close to twenty-four hours and her mind was overactive with fatigue such that her eyelids couldn't close. 

The sky was still dark- it was six-odd in the morning. So much had happened in such a short time. If she was feeling romantically melancholic, she would have reflected on the frailty of life which flame could be snuffed in the blink of an eye like a doomed poet. But she wasn't- all she was thinking about was when the sun rose, would she still have an irritating partner and best friend by her side? 

"Frank…" 

"Callie…" Elle turned around quickly and tried to smile reassuringly at her new friend. Gently, she squeezed Callie's hand and rummaged through her mental thesaurus for the best choice of words. 

Callie's eyelids fluttered and, when she saw Elle, she smiled slightly before it turned into a heartbreaking frown when she saw _only_ Elle. 

"Where's… Frank? Where're we? I… I heard gunshot… anyone… hurt?" Callie croaked, her voice raspy and breaking up. Elle extricated her hand and walked over to the bedside table to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on it. Helping Callie up, she passed the plastic glass to Callie who took it gratefully. 

"Frank's not here because he's at Bayport Hospital. Joe was flown there in a helicopter from here. He was severely shot." 

Callie gripped the glass tightly and stared at Elle in speechless uncomprehending. "What?" 

"Joe was shot, Callie. The kidnapper took his own life soon after. And we don't know where Hallie is. I'm sorry to have to tell you this the moment you woke up… I'm sure Frank will want to be here but…" She took the glass away from Callie's hands which were trembling so badly that she was about to drop it onto her lap. 

"I… oh my… how's Joe? Is he…" 

"I don't know." Elle set the glass onto the table top and sucked in a deep breath, unable to purge the image of Joe's hopeless eyes as he fell onto the dead kidnapper's chest from her mind. 

She swallowed hard, incapable of making eye-contact with anyone or anything. "I…" 

"Elle… do me a favor. Get me the police… and Frank. I… I know how to get to Hallie." 

Elle shot a stunned look at Callie- for a moment; she thought Callie was in delirium. But the determined look in Callie's eyes cleared all her doubts. Quickly, she left the room to get Con Riley who was outside, having a most tedious conversation with his Chief. 

***

_"His condition is critical, but stabilized. The next twenty four hours is crucial. We had to take out his spleen and almost half his pancreas but thankfully, we were able to sew up his stomach without having to remove any part of it. The bullet had fragmented after hitting one of his ribs which broke. The shrapnel damaged his lungs and liver but we managed to check the injuries. Right now, there's nothing much we can do for him. It's up to his fighting spirit. He lost a lot of blood."_

The doctor had enforced a strict rule of two visitors at one time into the ICU ward so Joe could rest properly. A distraught Laura and stoic Fenton went in first as Frank, now dressed in a spare t-shirt which his dad kept in the gym bag in his car, watched his brother from outside through the glass panel. However, his jeans were still discolored with the dark brown patches of dried blood- his brother's blood. With every passing minute, watching his brother's alabaster pallor melting into the white sheets with all those tubes hooked up to him, Frank drowned in guilt and anxiety. 

_Why did I ever let him go alone? We're partners… we don't split up… _

_We don't…_

Right then, he was alone in the room with his brother. Laura had broken down and Fenton had to support her out of the ward to find some place to calm down. Vanessa was also in the visitor's lounge with her husband and Andrea. She would be fourth in line to see Joe. 

"Joe… you mustn't give up… ever. Hear me? You still have to save Hallie… she needs you. We all need you more than you know…" He firmly gripped Joe's limp right hand in his, rubbing it in his palms to bring some warmth to the chilly flesh. Tears stung his eyes as he berated himself for being too slow. In his mind, he was walking through the events to find out where he could have hurried up and his answer was everywhere. He could have talked faster, walked faster and drove faster. Hell, he could have thought faster. But he didn't. He was just so freaking slow! 

"We still have that long overdue talk and I'm not going to let you find any excuse to get out of it. I'm not… going…" He pressed his quivering lips together to keep himself from crying. Wet eyelashes fluttered to keep the tears inside. He wasn't going to break down- his brother was not dead and would not die! 

"I have so many plans to discuss with you. I know you're tight for cash but you'll have fifty percent stake in our future investigative firm. You have to be my best man at my wedding- you know I'm a perfectionist and I won't have anyone as my best man but you. And for those seven years you're not here, you owe me a lot, brother. And you better be alive to pay up all those brotherly debts- I don't care. I want to know where's our damn, black van! Joe…" 

He closed his eyes and a trickle of scalding tear escaped from his left eye, leaving a sticky trail down his cheek. He tasted its brininess and hated it. He hated to cry. How much more of this salty concoction of sorrow he would have to swallow if Joe's heart was to stop beating? 

"Frank…" Someone tapped him on his shoulder, jolting him. He laid Joe's hand gently down onto the bed and stood up to find his father behind him, his dark brown eyes somber but shining with important news. Fenton nodded towards the door and Frank followed him out of the room. 

"What is it this time? Is it Callie? Is she all right?" 

"Callie called…" 

"She called… she's fine… she's talking so she's fine…" Frank heaved a sigh of relief, hoping his beloved would not blame him for not being there. At Frank's description of what constitute a healthy Callie, Fenton's lips curled up in a slight smile. 

"Yes, she is. Her fever broke. Frank, you're going to have to marry the girl or I and your mom will kill you. She has the most ingenious way to find Hallie and the police plus your FBI friend are on it." 

"She has? How?" Frank grabbed his father's hands tightly- it was good news! More than good news. It was hope- hope for all of them and hope to spark the fighting spirit in Joe. If nothing and no one here could pull Joe out of danger, news of Hallie's safety would definitely do the trick. 

Fenton smiled with some grim amusement, "Callie simply counted."


	30. 29

Con Riley's jaw dropped an inch after Callie finished telling him, Chief Collig and Special Agent Simon how she intended to, with their help, find Hallie. The young FBI agent brows had rose in some disbelief and Chief Collig, being a typical old-world male, had a grudging look of commendation for a girl 'who didn't know how to spell the word, "dead"'. 

Elle, the other lady, listened with practiced coolness.

"Get the map of Porters' Bay." Agent Simon Lee spoke first, addressing all of them gathered around Callie's hospital bed. "We have to figure out the directions to figure out where it should lead us."

***

_His brother looked like he was dissolving into the sheets. Frank knew it took time for the anesthesia to work its way out of Joe's system but he seriously wondered if Joe was even trying to fight. Every second seemed like an eternity to wait and in his mind, he saw himself still holding on to Joe who was bleeding, soaking Frank's shirt with his crimson life._

_The doctor had explicitly said everything was in Joe's court now. Frank had no doubt that his family would be sleeping in the ICU ward visitors' lounge for many days to come as they each take turns to watch over Joe. Frank had always wanted his brother to come back to Bayport to reunite with them out of his own free will, which was why even though he nagged at Joe over the phone, he never forced or threatened. But if he had known returning would bring Joe to such a tragic fate, he would have strapped Joe to his work desk in __Chicago__ and never let Joe come back._

_"So you see, Hallie will be fine.__ The question now, little brother, is whether you want to see her smiling at you, smearing chocolate ice-cream on your face. If you do, then please… please…"_

_He inhaled in deeply, sucking back his tears._

_"Whatever you do, baby bro, please come back to us."_

***

Callie sat behind the Toyota- the same make and model as the one that Richard Thompson used solely for his nefarious activity. The police had a rough idea of where they should go as she translated her own style of coordinates into proper directions but she insisted on going along since she was the one who best knew how to get to Hallie. The doctor wanted her to rest but she felt she had rested enough.

The sun was up- the longest night of their lives was over.

When the kidnapper had brought her to the cabin to tease her by bringing her so close to Hallie and then, pulling her away again, she had pressed her brain cells for the simplest and most ingenious idea to be able to find her way back to Hallie if she got rescued first. Call it women's intuition, she really did felt like they would all be counting on her to find Hallie when the kidnapper had slammed the lid of the car's trunk down on her. Now, she only hoped that being in the darkness had not messed up her sense of direction.

What she had done was simple. After gaining her sense of orientation, she merely started counting and corresponded the numbers with the direction the car turned. Each time the car turned, she would start counting from one again, remembering which number she stopped counting at before. So she had coordinates like two-hundred and five, turn left. Four-hundred and eighty two, turn right. It was tough to remember because the turns were so many but she persevered on and didn't allow herself to become flustered.

There was a long list of custom-made coordinates to commit to memory and perhaps knowing that a young life depended on her made her brain worked extra hard. She was very sure of herself and when the police translated her directions into proper, possible routes starting from the farmhouse, they hit an end point somewhere in the surrounding woods. 

_109, 110, 111, 112…_

"Left… turn left here. There are marks of tires! We're on the right track!!!" She tapped Special Agent Simon's shoulder urgently. He backed up a little and turned to his left. The forest wasn't dense but it was splayed with confusing tracks and trails. If Callie's estimation of the car's speed was wrong or she had miscounted or her memory of the corresponding directions they had to take were jumbled up, then they would have to make time-wasting detours and start all over again.

God should be kind now and let them hit jackpot on first attempt. Hallie must be feeling so lonely and hungry…

And they would have to bring her home to her mommy… and especially her daddy.

"As you say, madam." Simon followed the trail they were on and cast an admiring glance at her from the rearview mirror. Callie caught him stealing a fleeting look at serious Elle who was sitting beside her in the backseat, clasping her hand in a show of solidarity. In spite of her anxiety and desperate hope that she was bringing all of them to the right place, she couldn't help but wondered if a romance was brewing soon.

At least for the boyish FBI agent.

"What do I do now?" Simon asked, driving straight, looking a little worried now that he had been driving for quite some time without further instructions from Callie.

"It's straight ahead about… about five minutes…. 60 times 5… yup… 300. 5 minutes."

"You have a remarkable memory, Callie…" 

"And you can stop flirting and concentrate. We're looking for a little girl here!" Elle shot him a reproach. Callie clamped her mouth shut, seeing Agent Simon bristling for a while. He kept quiet and drove the rest of the way when suddenly, Elle stuck her head out of the window and exclaimed.

"I see a cabin peeking out from the trees over there…. Hurry! You're driving slower than my grandmother!"

"Hey! I have to drive at the estimated speed of forty miles an hour!" Simon countered defensively but sped up all the same. The sudden surge in speed threw the girls back against their seat.

"Do you know how to drive?! She's injured here! What if you reopen her wound?" Elle spat and Callie prayed that the obvious attraction Simon had for Elle could prevent him from killing the insufferable girl.

"I'm fine, Elle…" Callie spoke softly, trying to calm her friend down. Elle seethed at the driver and checked Callie's bandaged briefly before she was reassured that Callie was all right.

"I can't win, can I? Too slow, too fast. Make up your mind, Miss!" Simon hissed sharply but kept his eyes on the road. Callie caught sight of the pond and tapped his shoulder.

"Pull up here…"

"I know! I'm not stupid!" Simon, now a bundle of self-conscious nerves after his Elle-torment, braked to a halt and climbed of the car. Behind them in another car, Con Riley with his team of three other policemen pulled up and quickly exited to offer Simon back-up.

Elle laid a restraining hand on Callie's lap when Callie was about to open the door.

"No, Cal. The road is very uneven. You stay in the car and wait for us…"

"But… I…"

"Simon and I can handle this. Please… if you fall down and injure yourself further, your fiancé will kill me."

Callie stared at the rocky ground and nodded. Elle smiled at her grimly before exiting from the car, breaking into a slow jog to catch up with the agent who had readied his gun for any sudden eventualities.

She gazed out of the car window, praying silently that there were no more hurdles to climb. That Hallie was still alive.

Three policemen waited outside in a ready position while Con Riley, Agent Simon and Elle disappeared into the dilapidated cabin after checking it from the outside- their actions laced with excitement from what they saw through the window. Callie, unable to wait anymore, threw her car door open and stepped out unsteadily. She stumbled a few treacherous steps forward and almost fell as a sharp pain shot through up her leg. Grabbing her left thigh, she stopped moving for a while, letting the immobilizing pain pass.

The door to the cabin opened. Simon and Con Riley stepped out with a grin on each of their face and a covered cage in Con's hand. Behind them, held close to Elle's bosom, was a little girl with grimy golden hair. The cries of a child pierced through the peace of the forest and Callie's body shook before she broke down into tears of relief as she straightened herself the best she could. Elle bounced the crying Hallie, trying to shush her while she walked over to Callie, smiling a little helplessly. Callie stretched her hands out to hold Hallie and Elle gratefully passed the child in her arms, supporting her at the same time so she wouldn't fall.

"It's heartless of him to leave her all alone here… with a snake." Con Riley lifted up the cage, his face wrinkled up in disgust. "Kind of made me think the fate that befallen him is too easy."

Callie soothed Hallie's hair as the child cried on her shoulder, breathing irregularly through her hiccups. But she was calmed down somewhat because Callie was a familiar, comforting figure and she finally knew she was safe.

"Thanks, Callie. You've been a great help." Elle commended her, a look of respect flashed across her eyes. Callie smiled at her and nodded.

"I'm just doing what I can. Now… Hallie…" She looked into the lavender eyes which were swollen with tears and kissed her soon-to-be niece's forehead.

The sun blazed brightly high up in the sky. Right then, Callie didn't mind the summer heat at all.

"Do you want to see mommy and daddy?"

***

Vanessa stood by the entrance of Bayport Hospital with Greg and Andrea. Laura and Fenton were in the ICU ward, looking over their son but they were excited by the news too and wanted to bring it to Joe. They desperately wished that Joe could hear them in his sub-consciousness, giving him concrete reasons to live for. 

She waited for the sight of the police car which would bring Hallie home to her. There was no perfect jubilation in her heart though- she was more than happy, more than elated, but it was marred by the fact that Joe could not share that moment. He had risked his life for his daughter and now, Hallie was coming home safe and he couldn't be there to hold her in his arms.

And what did she do? She stayed behind in Bayport, praying and waiting by the phone. Sure, she went with Fenton to question the difficult Kathyrn Jones but that was all. Surely Joe deserved to be there more than her?

_Let the bad luck be on me, not on Hallie and not on Joe. _

The sirens of the police car grew louder out of nothingness and her heart skipped a beat. Her daughter- she was finally going to see her daughter, touch her and hug her. Greg drew her closer, sharing in her joy.

The car pulled up in front of the hospital porch and there were people loitering about, wondering what would transpire. Would an injured criminal be hauled by the Bayport's finest inside the hospital with his hands cuffed? Or would it be a crying victim of violence, hailing rants of injustice?

Vanessa knew. She knew her daughter was coming home. A glorious homecoming.

When the door opened, Vanessa's hands flew to her mouth and she broke down immediately. All the tensed up paranoia of ill-luck, all those nights spent worrying- they all didn't matter. What mattered most was this wailing little girl, having struggled out of the Con Riley's gentle grip, was running over to her; screaming for her.

"Mommy!!! Mommy!!!!"

Vanessa knelt down and stretched out her hands. Hallie crashed into her and she held her little girl close to her bosom, vowing silently never to let her go again. She kissed the grimy hair and cheeks repeatedly, whispering words of love and assurance. Hallie was still crying and there was nothing worse than hearing fear and innocence lost in a child's voice, especially her own child.

"It's ok, baby. Mommy's here… mommy will never, ever lose you again…"

_Never.___

***

_"Joe… they are on their way to bring Hallie here as we speak. Callie's way of finding Hallie worked. She also wants to remind you that she has a terrific memory and scores to settle with you for all the pranks you pulled on her before. Hallie's coming back, Joe. And she'll want to see her daddy… that's you… . I know you can hear me...I know you can…C'mon bro… fight!" Frank gripped his brother left hand as he soothed Joe's creaseless forehead. He was so exhausted- his eyelids were painful and his muscles ached but he could not sleep. He had to watch over Joe and, if Death should come, the skeletal hands would have to go through him first._

_The sight of Joe lying there debilitated was not something Frank could take with his characteristic coolness. Many times, looking upon his brother, Frank thought he would lose it. If the monitor was not showing a running, jagged line, he would have thought he was holding onto the hand of a corpse. _

_Suddenly, the whine of the monitoring equipment's alarm pierced through the sacred silence of the ICU ward. Frank shot a look on the greenish monitor and dropped Joe's hand abruptly, dashing out of the room, yelling at the top of his lungs desperately for a doctor._


	31. 30

Jaded footsteps walked down the pavement just outside the circumference of Bayport's Park. Dark eyes- brown in the daytime and enigmatic black under the moonlight- cast their sight downwards as clueless hands, shoved into jeans' pockets, jingled the loose change found inside the denim compartments, looking for something to do.

_"Fenton!__ Do something!!! Save my boy! Save my boy!" His mother pounded his father's chest as they helplessly watched the doctor doing his best to revive his brother with the defibrillator. Frank could feel each jolt of electricity through his body, wondering if Joe was actually conscious but only unable to open his eyes. It was so painful to see his brother's suddenly fragile body jerking up only to slam down hard against the bed._

Something to do. His parents had chased him home after he almost fainted with exhaustion right before their eyes. Joe was in the hospital for two days. Two days and Joe hadn't woken up from his operation. He should have. In two days, his brother went into ventricular fibrillation three times. However, his condition was proclaimed to be stabilized and the doctors were actually more hopeful that he should be out of the ICU ward soon.

_"Callie… why are you in a wheelchair? Are you all right?" On my God. Was the ambulance too late for you? I… I don't know what I could have done… Callie… I'm so sorry…"_

_"Frank… Frank, get a grip on yourself. I'm fine… I am… I'm only in a wheelchair because I shouldn't be walking too much. I'm all right." She stood up unsteadily before smiling at him reassuringly. He let out a huge sigh of relief and pulled her close. Even if she should really be paralyzed, he would take care of her forever, out of love. She was the heroine in this sordid tale of parenting gone really wrong for a certain orphan named Richard Thompson._

A loose sheet of newspaper flew with the currents of the sticky, summer night's breeze and plastered itself around his shins. He bent down and peeled it away, setting it free again to flitter in the night. He wanted to walk all the way home from the hospital, not trusting himself to drive but, seeing that he had still a few more streets to go, he grew disheartened and crumbled down to the ground.

_"Let the kid go or I'll shoot."_

_"Frank, look out!!!!"___

"Ah…" He let out a soft gasp as his right hand flew to grab his left arm, feeling the phantom pain which symbolized more than the gunshot wound he suffered from his most prolific case. His dark eyes squeezed shut as he confronted a memory that exploited his terrible fear to surface and torment.

The killer, holding a boy hostage as he sprayed bullets at Frank, the policemen and passersby, was a face that Frank could never forget. Three policemen died that night. A young girl was crippled for life and Frank, the 'hero' in the case, escaped with only a bullet in his left arm. It didn't even hit an artery or major nerve. Like that night of carnage, Frank had escaped death, had escaped grievous sufferings. How Fate picked and chose, he would never know. He just thought if he had been standing in the place of one of those fallen policemen, then he would have died. If he had opted to go to Maine instead, then he would be the one in hospital, fighting for dear life.

Not Joe- not his brother.

_Joe…_

_"Pss…Joe! Joe… open the door. Quick! Before daddy see!" Ten-year-old Frank Hardy knocked softly on his brother's door. The door opened shortly and a scruffy, skinny blond little boy peered out with impish, wary eyes, checking if the coast was cleared._

_"Frank… you got my Super Mario Bros cartridge?"_

_"No… but I got you chicken wings left over from dinner. I know you can only eat the plain tomato sauce pasta and soup. The cartridge's in dad's office…"_

_"I know I can always count on you!!! Quick! Come in before dad sees us!"_

The lone man, kneeling in the middle of the pavement at two in the morning, buried his face in his hands as his body shook with the forcefulness of his tears.

***

Special Agent Simon Lee watched the brown-haired young man sipping his cup of coffee like it was an annoyingly necessary but tolerated ritual. He heard from his new found friends that Frank Hardy was living on a sole diet of caffeine, sleeping at most four hours a day. His unshaven face was haggard but his eyes shone with a fierce intensity that was almost frightening. Simon pushed the case file aside and sighed.

Frank Hardy looked at him, scowling lethally.

"What's the bloody sigh for? No one's dead yet."

"I see you're taking lessons from Elle."

His companion snorted before cocking his head at the case file. "You're all trying your darn hardest to tie up the loose ends. There's someone else involved, someone who knew our intentions! That was how Callie and Elle got ambushed. And that's how the Richard Thompson knew how to kidnap Joe! We need to flush out the damn psycho who have access to all these information and now, you're here telling me the case is close!"

"Richard Thompson is a smart man who goes to extremes to keep himself from being caught. Maybe he just had a way to find out what we are doing. This is a man who corroded his fingerprints away, exfoliated and shaved himself all over on a twice daily basis and went to great lengths to impersonate as someone else who didn't have a driving license. He operated from a hermit's house after killing the old man and buried him in the back garden of the farmhouse and all evidence we gathered so far pointed to the work of one man…"

"Good. So Richard Thompson was a seer. I'll buy that completely. Since even you will not listen to me, I think we have nothing to talk about."

"Frank… that's your anger talking."

"And you're my therapist now, Agent Lee. I think I have every right to be angry. I go to the hospital everyday to see my brother lying there as still as a corpse while I try to explain to his daughter why her daddy's sleeping all the time with all those 'scary tubes' in and out of him. Sometimes, he goes into a cardiac arrest which threatens his life. And you know why? It's all because there was someone out there who had been feeding Richard Thompson with all those information so he could kidnap my brother and shoot him in the gut! I'm watching my brother die on some days only to be revived back by those freaking paddles and it's a process that I'm becoming sick of. So tell me it's my anger talking." Frank's perforating gaze pierced painfully into Simon's eyes and he cringed, not knowing how to answer him.

"Forget it. Let's say I believe you. How are you going to sniff out who's the guy or girl?"

Frank slumped back in his chair- his exhaustion suddenly achingly blatant. He smiled grimly, nodding at the case file.

"I might go check the farm. But not today. Joe is determined to be stable enough to get out of the ICU today. I just want to be there."

"All right. Let me re-look at the case file and think over what you said. I'll get back to you this evening."

Frank's smile grew wider, friendlier now that his views were being taken seriously. He nodded silently before asking for the bill. At nine on a Monday morning, a week plus after Hallie was rescued, the two men parted ways outside the small bistro on the edge of downtown Bayport.

***

"Uncle Frank, why is daddy still sleeping?" Little Hallie, having grown tired of pinching Joe's cheeks and stabbing his soles with a blunt pencil, jumped down from the armchair she was sitting on and trotted over to the couch against the wall of the private room. On this couch, Frank spent the night, waiting and hoping, most of the time with his parents, sometimes with Callie, sometimes alone.

And today, the second day Joe was in his new room, he was with Hallie whom Vanessa had asked him to fetch from the therapist as she had some administrative work to do for her office. Frank knew from Callie that Vanessa was having trouble applying for a long leave to look after Hallie until she was all right and was contemplating resignation.

Frank scooped Hallie up and sat her on his lap. "Well, I told you before Hallie. Your daddy is sleeping because he's very sick and needed his rest."

"Then the tubes?"

"They are to bring to him nutrients, medicine and fluids and also, to take away what his body cannot expel…"

"I think daddy's just lazy. Sometimes, daddy sleeps the afternoon away just like that, only to wake up, eat and then sleep again." Hallie wrinkled her nose in annoyance before her face crumbled with a sudden, dark thought.

Dark thoughts- they were not supposed to attack a child so soon. But Hallie was taught fear in one of the worst way possible and her dark thoughts became more frequent- more intense.

"Is daddy not waking up because he doesn't love Hallie anymore? I love daddy very much. I wanna him wake up!"

"Have you told your daddy that you love him very much?" Frank drew her closer and she rested her blonde head on his chest. She pouted a little before shaking her head.

"Why not tell him now?" _And let your voice guide him home._

Her eyes sparkled as if he had just hit upon an ingenious idea. Nodding vigorously, she wrapped her arms tightly around Frank as he stood up, with some effort, and carried her over to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, cupping her palms over Joe's left ear as she spoke in hushed whispers of precious words.

Frank stared intently at his brother, waiting for that miracle.

Hallie sat up and frowned, angry at her "lazy" father. "Don't like!"

"Don't worry, Hallie. He will wake up soon, now that he knows you miss him." Frank carried her away from the bed, a lump of bitterness in his throat. They had tried everything- Laura even brought in a plate of her famous waffles, something that could always get Joe out of bed in his teens when everything else failed.

"Hallie! Frank…" The door opened and Vanessa popped her pretty head in, smiling blissfully when she saw her daughter. Hallie struggled in Frank's arms, a gestured signaling that she wanted to be let down. Scampering to her mother who had just stepped into the room, she hugged Vanessa's legs and squealed.

"Mommy! Daddy's still sleeping! Aren't you going to scold him?"

Vanessa cast a wary glance at Frank briefly before bending down to caress her daughter's rosy cheeks, "I think you have scolded him long enough…" Looking up again, she smiled at Frank with a hand on each of Hallie's shoulders.

"Thanks, Frank. For babysitting her. Greg had to rush back to the convention…"

"Shouldn't he be here for you? You're his family." Frank wasn't happy to hear that Greg split so soon the minute Hallie was back. There was still the aftermath to deal with and Vanessa was doing it mostly alone even though Andrea, Fenton and Laura were helping her.

"Hallie's back and it wasn't like he's please to go… I made him. I'm all right. Hallie's all right. Once Joe's better, I'm flying back to L.A."

"And Hallie?"

"Mommy... I wanna stay here with daddy…don't wanna go back yet…" Hallie gazed up at Vanessa imploringly. "You stay too?"

"Daddy Greg's waiting for us…"

"But I wanna daddy now!"

"Hallie!" Vanessa chided her sternly and she bit her lower lips before running away to sulk on the couch. Frank shrugged before gesturing vaguely at Joe. 

"When he wakes, I hope you will let him spend more time with Hallie…he's her father."

"Please don't make me out to be some heartless ex-wife, Frank. We were friends and I hope we still are. Have more faith in me… I need to fly back to L.A. to settle some stuff… as for Hallie…" She gazed at her huffy daughter and sighed resignedly, "Hallie deserves to have her opinions heard."

Frank saw the confused shimmer behind her smoldering grey eyes and relented. Divorce was always messy, especially when a child and present spouse were involved. Probably, Vanessa was stretched thin by her responsibilities as a wife and a mother, pulling her in opposite directions. But he knew she would make the decision that was best for Hallie.

Walking over to her, he hugged her briefly and decided to start the conversation, which had turned unintentionally, hostile all over again, "Hello, Ness. Thanks for coming to see Joe."

"Hello to you too, Frank." Vanessa smiled at him before pulling away to pacify her daughter and talk a little to her unconscious ex-husband.

***

_"Wake up, you brat! I'm going to be late because of you! C'mon or I'll drive to school without you!"_

_Too-heavy eyelids tried to lift open but it seemed like a ton of lead was pressing upon each of them. Numbed fingers were impossible to even twitch a little._

_Plus the mind was too drowsy. Maybe it was better to continue sleeping. Who needed school on a lazy, Monday morning?_

_"Joe… please… wake up. I thought you love the waffles? You're going to miss them coz Chet's outside, eying them…"_

_Chet?__ In his kitchen? And his mother sounded like she was crying…_

_"Joe, behind you!__ JOE!!!!"_

_"Daddy!__ Daddy!!!! Where are you???"_

_A sharp, splintering pain dispersed all over his body. His stomach hurts terribly as droplets of blood splattered out…_

_Dying… light dimming… giving up… falling…_

_"I can't let someone like you die with hope… you see, it's not to punish Hallie. It's to punish you. It's a lesson… to be learned."_

_NO!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_"Daddy, wake up. I miss you…"_

_HALLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_"Daddy, wake up! I'm angry now!!!!!"_

_TELL ME WHERE'S HALLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

_"Joe… follow my voice… C'mon… open your eyes… I feel your fingers moving… you can't just tease us like that! Joe! Wake up now!"_

_Monday Morning. School. Birds chirping… bed warm and comfy_

_Blood, bald man… dying… falling… falling…_

_Chest constricting.__ Fear… Hallie…_

_"Wake up, you little brat! You have us waiting long enough! I'm sick of this! Get me? There's someone else out there and I need you to get back to work! C'mon!!!!"_

_Frank… his brother… not letting him die…_

_He didn't want to die._

"Fwwaank…"

"Joe!" 

The blurry features of his brother became focused and then, hazy again. His lips felt like shriveled flakes and his tongue heavy and parched. Someone was holding his hand and he tried desperately to clutch it, hold on to it lest he fall again. The ground was so slippery and he felt so weak…

"Don… let go…"

A dozen of his brother's face sprouted on the broad shoulders. Many identical pairs of dark brown eyes shimmered with tears like stars twinkling away on a dark, clear night. A cool hand pushed his hair behind his forehead.

"It's ok… you're fine now. I know you won't let me down…"

The voice grew distant but he smiled, happy. Someone wasn't going to let him fall again.


	32. 31

_"__Ness__… I… well, I can't afford a diamond ring, not now… but… I…" He stumbled over his words as she gazed expectantly at him. Now that they were in __Maryland__, they only had each other and although he hadn't much savings, he was determined to do it right. _

_She deserved the very best. _

_He sucked in a deep breath before pulling out the white ring box decorated with a thin, gold-colored trimming. Kneeling down in front of her in the car park of a diner as she sat in the van's passenger seat, he presented her with the physical manifestation of his promise. _

_"I love you so much. You're the best thing in my life. Marry me."_

"Ness…" 

_"Greg and I are moving to __L.A.__ He accepted a job in U.C.L.A and… I just think I should tell you personally… you can visit Hallie during weekends…" _

_"I can visit Hallie during weekends?" He asked her incredulously. A daughter was supposed to live with her father- hell, her parents! Visit his daughter! He might as well apply for a permit to talk to Hallie! _

_"Yes… I'll pay for the air-tickets…" She offered, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. The aroma wafted to his nose, making him sick. If he didn't like coffee before, he hated it with a passion now._

_"I don't need charity. I can buy my own air tickets. Go ahead, with my blessings. That's what you're good at! Taking everything away from me… everything that mattered." _

_"Joe, not here and not now.__ I don't want to talk about this anymore." She threw him a tired look, as if he had somehow wronged her. But he wasn't the one who whisked Hallie away in the middle of the night- he wasn't the one giving up on their marriage and he wasn't the one who got their marriage annulled. _

_She! She was the one who wanted to have nothing to do with him! _

_Anger, raging and corrosive, burned his stomach. But he managed to calm himself. Pushing his chair behind, he stood up and grabbed his jacket. She tried to stop him but he stormed out of the corner bistro to the battered black van parked at the side of the road. _

_"Joe! I'm sorry… but… I really need to go to L.A…" _

_He spun around. So she had followed. Guilty conscience most probably. _

_"Do you have to take Hallie with you? I'm going to contest for custody! I'll not going to let you just take her away from me." _

_"She's my life!" _

_"She's mine too! Why? Why, __Ness__? What have I done? I only see her three times a week and now, you're flying her to another State! Have you ever considered my feelings?" _

_"I have to put my family first!" _

_"Since when had that been your philosophy?" he shot back, fire licking his words, "Were you putting your family first when you left me?" _

_"I don't even want to talk about it anymore. I'm bringing Hallie to L.A…" _

_"ARGHHH!" he growled, pulling at his hair. "YOU DON'T GET IT DO YOU? YOU'RE KILLING ME IF YOU DO THAT! YOU AND GREG CAN HAVE OTHER CHILDREN! I ONLY HAVE HALLIE! HALLIE!!!!" _

_"JOE! Get a grip on yourself!" She grabbed his arm and he shook it away roughly. _

_"A GRIP ON MYSELF?__ I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT'S A GRIP ON MYSELF!" He threw open the van's back sliding door and drew out a baseball bat. Vanessa shrieked, thinking that he was going to attack her but he wasn't. He just didn't know what to do with all the rage crushing his chest. _

_"A GRIP ON MYSELF!__ YOU'RE DOING ALL THESE THINGS TO ME!" He struck his van with the bat- the van. It brought them all the way here and now, it was witnessing the breakdown of everything between them. Joe directed his anger and hate at it- to the very core of his heart, he wanted to see the damn van crumble. _

_"JOE! Stop it! Please!" _

_"Somebody, call the police…" _

_"I HATE THIS! I HATE MY LIFE! I HAVE NOTHING! NOTHING! NOT EVEN THE FREEDOM TO SEE HALLIE!" The windscreen was smashed- the van's windows next. He kept on battering the poor van until it was nothing but a dented aluminum wreck. Some hands tried to restrain him but he shook them all away. Climbing to the top of the vehicle, he jumped and stormed on it, feeling the urge to just rip the damn metal scrap apart. _

_Then he slumped down, surrounded by curious, amazed and stunned passersby who stopped to witness his anger. Sitting on top of the war-torn van with his legs dangling down its side, he buried his face in his hands and felt, for the first time, truly hollow and lost._

"No… don't go… don't… please…I'm sorry…" 

"Joe…" 

"Don't take Hallie away...Ness!" Joe's eyes shot open just as pain, devastating pain, ripped through his system. He saw Frank hovering over him and vague images of seeing Frank looking down on him with desperate hope and concern flashed across his mind. His heart pounded in his chest as he clawed his brother's shirt for some form of anchor. 

Disorientated, in pain and overwhelmed with fear, Joe grasped Frank's shirt as hard as he could, not knowing where he was, not knowing anything. 

"Frank… help me…" He squeaked painfully. Frank smiled gently and soothed his hair, hushing him up. 

"Bro…" 

"Help me… please… they're taking Hallie away…" 

"No one's taking Hallie away… Hallie's fine…" 

_"Greg and I are moving to __L.A.__ He accepted a job in U.C.L.A and… I just think I should tell you personally… you can visit Hallie during weekends…" _

_"I can't let someone like you die with hope… you see, it's not to punish Hallie. It's to punish you. It's a lesson… to be learned."_

"You don't understand…" He croaked, expending so much energy just to talk. "They are taking her away from me… everyone…" 

"Joe… look around… no one is taking Hallie away….. Shh.... look around you… we've been waiting for a long time since you started showing signs of consciousness two days ago…" 

_Signs of consciousness?__ What the hell happened to me?_

"Wha…" Joe did as he was told, his head swarming with confusion such that his stomach churned with giddiness. Frank moved away from the bed and he held on weakly to his brother's shirt as long as he could, afraid that even Frank would go away too. 

Then his hands dropped when he saw his mother's tearing face and his father's relieved, but concerned eyes. Chet and Tony raised their hands up to salute him, grinning widely. Elle gave him an annoyed look which melted into a grudging smile and Callie struggled up from the couch with a walking stick, smiling at him too. 

Everyone was smiling and he was in pain. Had they all turned into sadists? His neck was so stiff he was sure if he moved it, it would break. 

Where were Vanessa and Hallie? 

It was almost as if time had suspended. Then his mother broke the spell by rushing to his side. She leaned over to caress his face and kiss his forehead. 

Joe held on to one of her hands in a fragile grip- struggling inside to understand, through the pain, what was going on. 

"Mom?" 

"You've come back, baby. My baby boy's back." 

"Mommy… it hurts… it hurts so much…" He couldn't take the pain anymore. Couple that with those horrible flashbacks and the terrible confusion, Joe broke down and sobbed, clinging on to his mother for familiar warmth and safety that he knew and needed ever since he was a baby. 

***

Joe was only recently allowed to take liquid food and the first thing he wanted was water. He had thinned down so much that Vanessa could hardly recognize him anymore but, now that he was weaned off the sedatives, having been heavily drugged for almost one week since he first fully regained consciousness, his once-startling blue eyes were clearer and he was definitely more cognizant of his surroundings. Fenton and Laura had gone to fetch Hallie on his behest. Vanessa had wanted to go back home to fetch their little girl over to the hospital but Joe wanted her to stay, saying that he had something very important to ask of her. 

It was seven in the morning and she was by his hospital bed since five a.m. out of guilt. When news of him waking up reached her ears, she brought Hallie to his side immediately in the wee hours of the morning. But the doctors kept him heavily sedated because of his injuries and he drifted in and out of drugs-induced consciousness for the next few days. When he saw Hallie in that groggy state, he wasn't much for conversation. 

Now, they were alone in the private ward and she had just helped Joe moistened his lips with some water. He was too weak to do it for himself and too proud to ask. She was too uncomfortable assisting him and thus, the whole process of wetting her fingertips with some water before running them over his lips, which took less than a few seconds, was quietly suffered through. 

"Can't wait for Hallie to be here?" She asked smilingly, noticing that he kept glancing at the clock on the wall. He nodded once before grimacing, most likely from a sudden jolt of pain. 

"Yah… When I saw her in the last few days, I was so out of it… the meetings were like patches of a dream. Now, I can… finally experience it. It's different. Haven't thanked Callie properly too." He replied in a painful whisper, almost breaking her heart. The awkward silence descended again and just when she was about to ask him what he wanted to ask of her, he started to speak as well. 

She let out a soft chuckled and gestured for him to speak first. 

"No… you…" He grinned sheepishly, still a little dulled from the medication. 

"You first. I was only going to ask you what it was that you wanted." 

"Ok…" He breathed, smiling a little uneasily. "I was just… just thinking… that… the restraining order is going to be lifted… but…. I…" He gazed at her sadly before shrugging weakly. 

"You want to have Hallie for some time before I bring her back to L.A." Vanessa guessed Joe's desires. It wasn't so hard- he had made it known throughout the years they were apart that it was the only thing he wanted. 

He nodded, looking at her hopefully now. She didn't know why but it was only then that she felt so cruel for going to great lengths, pulling strings and leaning on Greg's connections, to put forth the restraining order. Anyone could see that Joe wasn't a violent person. He was as loving as the best fathers came and the restraining order must have been worse than a bounty on his head. 

"Your wish is granted." 

His eyes lighted up with so much joy that her spirits which had taken quite a beating recently, lifted up as well. Just as he was about to say something else, most probably a heartfelt gratitude, the door opened and Hallie scampered in happily, giggling when she saw Joe fully awake and _aware_ for the first time since she was rescued. 

"Look who's here, darling…" Laura Hardy chimed as she and Fenton made their entrance, "Now, she can pester her daddy and she can't wait!" 

"Glad to have her off our hands too. We are getting too old for her liveliness… Andrea had such a difficult time waking her up I almost pitied her!" Fenton mused, over-exaggerating the energy needed to keep up with Hallie. 

"DADDY!!!!!" 

"Hallie…" Joe struggled to reach out for her. Fenton scooped up little Hallie and placed her on the bed gently, careful not to cause too much impact that could pained Joe further. 

Hallie didn't seem to know that he was recovering from a grievous hurt and Joe didn't want to be too careful around her. She flung her arms around Joe's neck and he held her back, breathing into her hair. 

"Daddy was so lazy... sleeping all the time!" Hallie looked up at her father, reproaching him sternly with those pouting lips. Joe chuckled softly before one of his hands flew to his mid-section. 

Immediately, Laura Hardy walked over, about to help him pump analgesia from the PCA button. Joe raised a hand limply up to stop her, as he smiled strenuously at his daughter through his severe discomfort. 

"I miss you, daddy. But you only talked rubbish when you saw me before. Last night, I dreamt… I dreamt you were playing hide and seek with me but you couldn't find me and you started crying. Then Hallie cried too…" Hallie's eyes welled up and her lips shivered at the memory. Vanessa remembered the aftermath of the nightmare- she had been sleeping in Hallie's room ever since Hallie came home. 

Hallie had woken up screaming for her daddy tearfully, refusing everybody's attempt to pacify her. And Vanessa had to hold her until she cried herself to sleep again. 

Joe blinked his eyes rapidly before he pulled Hallie even closer to him. Words failed all of them at the emotional reunification of father and daughter. Laura and Fenton smiled, happy for their son. Vanessa placed a hand on his knee as she dabbed quickly at her eyes with the other. 

He was obviously lost for language as well for he could only sobbed into his daughter's blonde curls, not caring if the heartrending wracks hurt his sore stomach. 


	33. 32

"You look like crap." Joe greeted Frank warmly when Frank stepped into private ward with Callie, who was still employing a walking stick to help her walk without straining her left leg too much. "And you, Callie… are an angel. I can't begin to thank you…" 

"Anytime, Joe. I believe a treat is in order." Callie sat down on the empty chair previously occupied by Vanessa. Frank looked around, a little surprised. 

"Where's mom and dad? And Hallie?" 

"She got bored… of her daddy and so her adoring grandparents plus worshipping mom brought her down for ice-cream. Actually, it's because I was a little …tired." 

"It's eleven in the morning and you're tired." Frank's eyes hooded over with immeasurable concern. Joe was touched when he remembered Laura telling him how Frank had devotedly kept vigil by his side for the past week and almost fainted from exhaustion. He felt like he was the luckiest kid brother alive to have an elder brother like Frank by his side, scaring Death away with his determination. If anyone wanted to know how dying felt like, Joe could tell them. Slowly, as he regained reasonable consciousness, he recalled the feeling of light-headedness and anguish as he fell from his injuries in that attic. He also remembered Frank racing him down the hallways of some hospital, screaming for a doctor. Then he vaguely recalled hearing Frank lectured him about fighting and he would have joked that he went into those cardiac arrests because he couldn't take Frank's nagging anymore but stopped himself- not only was it not true and ill-humored, Frank's steadfast faith in him was something he could never trivialize. 

When he lost faith in himself, it helped to have someone who still unyieldingly believed in him. Joe had no doubt that he was still alive now, rather groggy and in terrible pain but nevertheless, alive, because his brother had rolled up his sleeves and wrested him from Death's strangulating grip. For that, he could never repay Frank. 

And he knew Frank would never expect him to. It was all about the giving of one self- not about owing debts. 

"Well… at least I know I am tired and need to sleep, unlike somebody. I can't even begin to make up where your dark circles end and your eyes start." 

"Tell it to him, Joe!" Callie found support in his words and gave her fiancé, who had pulled a chair next to the bed, a reproachful stare. "Why don't you go back to your apartment later and sleep?" 

"Maybe… how are you feeling, beside tired? Does it still hurt?" Frank placed a warm hand over his chilly one and looked at him with those searching eyes that forbid him to lie. 

"It does. But I'm gritting my teeth. I hate painkillers." 

"When your last dose wears off, you'll be singing a different tune." Frank rubbed the back of his hand absentmindedly with his thumb, frowning a little, as if he had something to say, but stopped himself. He withdrew his hand and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. 

"Callie… I need to speak to Joe alone…" Frank took his fiancée's hand and squeezed it gently. Joe could see Callie's eyes drooping with some disappointment but she nodded, standing up reluctantly. 

"Take care of yourself, hero." She bent over and kissed Joe lightly on his cheek. Before she left, Frank stood up and gave her a brief hug. 

"I'm sorry… I'll be out soon…" 

"I understand. I'll wait outside with Tony, Chet and Elle. Bye, Joe." Callie pulled out of Frank's embrace and left the room. Joe shivered from the coldness she left behind. 

"You shouldn't have done that." 

"She understands…" 

"So what is it that you want to tell you in private that she can't hear?" Joe asked Frank as his brother leaned against the door, his eyes darting everywhere but Joe's direction. 

"I'll keep it short, bro. Please don't scare me again. I don't think I can take it. It's very nerve-wrecking and for a moment, I thought I was going mad with exploding anxiety." 

"I know. Thanks, bro, for fighting my battles with me." Joe looked at his brother's weary frame and his gut twisted even more. He breathed in shortly and sharply and Frank rushed over to his side again. 

"You want some more painkillers?" 

"The panacea for all ills…" Joe spoke sardonically, "I don't want to be dependent on it… you know…" 

"I do. But if you need it, don't act too strong. Pain can actually hinder you from recovering too and I know you're sensible enough to not get yourself hooked. This PCA thing is actually quite safe. See, it actually limits you from overdosing because you're only allowed a certain amount of painkiller in you and when you used it up, it won't pump out anymore for you, no matter how hard you press the button…" 

"When I need an encyclopedia, I'll call you." Joe threw his brother a deadpanned look but grimaced again when his stomach literally felt like a sledgehammer had whacked the wind out of it. Frank shook his head and pressed the button for Joe, allowing a shot of analgesia to be administered into his body. 

"Now, you rest well. I want my old partner back." Frank helped Joe slip under his covers, fluffing his pillow to make him more comfortable. Joe's eyelids grew heavier and he knew his friends were coming in next but he couldn't really keep himself awake anymore. 

But there was always one more second for self-commendation. 

"Thanks… don't let Elle hear that… she'll skin you. I'm hot property…" 

Frank laughed softly, patting his head gently. Before he left, Frank turned around and even in his sleepy haze; Joe could still make up the gleam of unshed tears in those dark eyes. 

"Thanks brat, for being alive." 

"Anytime, bro. Anytime." 

***

Frank left the room and saw Callie chatting away with Chet and Tony. They were smiling but solemn. Elle rose up from her seat, setting aside the magazine she was browsing through the moment she saw Frank. 

"Elle… he's sleeping…" Frank tried to stop her from disturbing Joe's rest but Elle merely brushed him aside. 

"It's ok. I'm very quiet and don't like to talk." 

Chet and Tony raised their hands up to greet him, their eyes shining with concern as well. When Joe was in the ICU, his friends hardly had the chance to visit him since the family members were reluctant to leave his side. Once, they bent the rules themselves and four people gathered inside the ward. For that, Frank was given a stern warning by the draconian head nurse. 

"Hey… buddy." Chet gave him a half-hug and Tony clapped his shoulder hard. 

"We'll just come back when he wakes." 

Frank shrugged with a slight smile. Callie cocked her head towards the exit. "Ready to go? Or are you going to stay here longer?" 

"Oh… I'm ready to go now. Bye." He bade his friends farewell as Callie gave each of the boys a brief hug. As he walked Callie down the hallway, he felt like she had blasted a frosted glass between the both of them. However, he couldn't bring himself to say anything to her even though his mind was racing. He remembered how he felt when he first saw her back in Bayport in the hospital, anxiously looking for him, refusing to have her wound checked until she was sure he was all right. He really wanted to tell that she was the only woman that he ever wanted and that she completed him- that she gave him the courage and strength when he thought he didn't have anymore left inside. 

But he didn't. His worries for Joe, who was on the brink of death several times, caused him to neglect Callie. And he was still feeling very guilty about leaving Callie behind in the attic. She never mentioned it but it didn't mean they were both not bothered by it- maybe it was only him for he knew she had such a huge heart. Whatever it was, he was afraid to bring up the topic. 

When they reached his car, she tilted her head to one side, loitering outside the passenger side. "Where are you going?" 

"I'm thinking of spending some quiet time with you." 

"I thinking of spending some quiet time with myself." 

"Cal…" Frank slammed the car door shut and went over to her side, gripping her hand before she could slip inside the car. She stood still, angrily pouting. 

"I… I know I haven't been there for…" 

"It's not that. If you're not here for your brother, I would have dragged you here. It's just… I can't help but think you took me for granted sometimes." She twisted her lips this way and that, staring at the ground with a frown. 

"I know how much you sacrifice for me… and… I know how my profession puts you in danger too. Believe me, Callie…" He took her other hand and she gazed up at him, her lips pursed and her eyes flashing, challenging him to say the right words. 

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I had no choice…Joe was bleeding to death and I couldn't… well… I…" 

"Was that the thing that was bothering you so much such that you can't even talk to me for the past few days?" Callie stared at him incredulously. 

Frank scratched the back of his head and suddenly realized how silly he was. "Well… yah…" 

"You insulted me. I'm angry now!" She placed a hand on her hip as she brandished her walking stick in the air with the other, "For totally different reasons!" 

"Callie…" Frank glanced around uncomfortably, a little embarrassed even though no one was in sight. Callie stamped her stick down on the ground, missing Frank's foot by a few inches. 

"Now I know you think I'm some insensitive, pig-headed girl who couldn't understand the plight you were in. If, Frank Hardy, you have stayed behind to be with me and Joe didn't receive the help he needed and died, I couldn't take the guilt. And if you haven't realized how stupid you are to be bothered by something like that, I'm telling you now that you are! I think they must have switched your IQ scores with someone else. I actually thought I was going to marry a genius!" 

"Well…" Frank half-shrugged, curling his lips inwards apologetically, "Forgive me?" 

"When you first saw me in the hospital, you hugged me like you really wanted me, needed me. Like you can't be separated from me, not even for a second. And that was the last time you hugged me like that. If you weren't here in the hospital, you were spending so much time with that Agent Simon guy such that I thought you were engaged to him, not me! And if you haven't caught my hint; I'm going to hit you on the head with my stick until some intelligence come tumbling out!" 

Frank grinned light-heartedly, now that the load on his chest had vanished. He drew her close to him and kissed her fiercely. She dropped her deadly walking stick, embracing him back tightly like she never wanted to let go. 

"I love you, genius girl…" 

"Finally, you got the words _almost_ right." She swiped his nose playfully and laid her head on his chest, sighing with exaggerated resignation. 

"Why almost? What did I say wrong? I got all the keywords…" 

"It's not 'genius girl'… it's 'genius girl who's drop dead gorgeous at the same time with a figure to boot.'" Callie grinned cheekily and he arched a brow, trying hard not to laugh. 

"Wow… that's a mouthful. Somebody's _soooo_ modest…" 

"Yup. Humble is my middle name. Now…" She pulled away and clutched the lapel of his shirt. "Where do we go for some quiet time?" 

"I don't know… but… how will you feel, getting married earlier than we planned?" Frank watched the color of her eyes deepened from hazel to some sort of baffled brown. Then it shone with liquid happiness as she tilted her chin up, closing her eyes as a trickle of tear streamed down her lovely cheek. 

He caught the hint; no way was he going to risk the wrath of her walking stick as he valued his brain cells very much. With natural tenderness, he kissed her lips innocently before she drew his head closer and consumed his very being. 

In a very good way.


	34. 33

"Elle, can you show me some sympathy? I'm still recuperating…" Joe groaned as Elle asked him for the umpteenth time if he was feeling well enough to return to Chicago with her and finish up his work. She deliberately aimed the shower on his forehead rather than his scalp and the shampoo suds flooded down, stinging his eyes. 

"Ow!!!!! Watch it!!!!! My eyes are my best assets! You're supposed to be good at this!" 

Elle's face hovered above his- her expression set in a sadistic smile. She held on to the head of the retractable spout of the Hardys' kitchen sink with an evil gleam in her eyes as she spoke too sweetly for his liking. 

"I had it, babying you. If you are well enough to grumble and complain, you are well enough to work. You still owe me some paperwork, buddy." 

"Anyone told you that you're one slave driver? I almost died! I saw the black tunnel with light on the other side!" He scowled at her, struggling to sit up before she could inflict anymore damage to his sore eyes. Rising to a comfortable position on the kitchen stool, grimacing from the same old pain in his abdomen, Joe reached over and snatched the spout from Elle, deciding that he would wash his own hair. 

The insufferable pain had lessened down to a dull throb and, after almost four weeks of stay in the hospital, counting those days when he was out of commission, the doctor proclaimed him to be well enough to go back home. The announcement was the only moment in which Joe actually liked the portly, bespectacled guy with a too-thin nose. 

He kept washing his hair but the suds didn't seem to be diminishing. Looking up, he realized that Elle was pouring shampoo on his head as he was rinsing it off. 

"Elle, these kinky games can come later! My brains are freezing from the water!" He bellowed in a whisper. He was used to verbally articulate his needs in whispers now- groan in whispers, shout in whispers, laugh in whispers, and gossip in whispers. The last talent was being taught to him by Callie who just couldn't help positioning herself as the Bayport's unofficial representative for the Enquirer. 

"Chicago or Bayport?" She held the shampoo bottle just out of his grip. Joe, still paranoid about his wound splitting open again, could not act as agilely as before. His hands reached over his head and grasped futilely for his mother's bottle expensive salon formulation. Obsessing in secret with that particular shampoo because it had the fragrance of an orchard bursting with citrus fruits and, most importantly, it gave his light blond hair a silky sheen, he found the same shampoo in a upscale hair salon in Chicago and gawked at the price. 

He hoped his dad's credit was still healthy. 

Giving up, Joe fumed, leaned back against the kitchen sink and crossed his arms. Elle stood still, sulking for a moment before she stormed away and sat down on a barstool, holding on to the precious shampoo bottle. 

"It's not as if you don't know what I want, Elle. I am home now… Vanessa's letting me take care Hallie for a while and, even though I'm still weak from my injuries, I can take care of her with my parent's help. And they are all so happy to have me back, especially Frank…" He tried to talk sense into her when he suddenly heard a sniff. 

"Are you crying, partner?" 

"No…" She shook her head, denying the tear that was trickling down her pale cheek. If caffeine was Frank's stimulant, a pretty face was Joe's. His heart burst with the achingly lovely sight and he remembered the first time he laid eyes on Elle in the tutorial room- his heart palpitated excitedly at the sight of a gorgeous eye-candy, definitely useful when lessons were boring, but he played it cool. If he could commit and Elle was a little saner, they might have something great going on there after the few casual dates they had. 

Standing up, a little sore still, he stumbled over and sat down on the barstool beside her, draping an arm across her shoulders, his wet hair dripping soapy water onto the towel around his neck and shoulders. "Hey, I didn't know you cared so much… I mean, you hardly visited me…" 

"I did. But I timed my visits strategically." 

"Huh?" 

She rubbed the sides of her eyes before facing him, smiling tediously. "While you were sleeping. I hate mushy meetings." 

Joe shook his head, smiling in resignation when a bright idea slapped him on the side of his head. "I have a brilliant idea! How about you relocate to Bayport?" 

"No," Came the swift, deliberate reply. 

"Why? This is a great place! I'll show you around when I'm feeling fit enough which should be soon… you'll fall in love with it, I promise." 

"I like Chicago. Oh well, if you're not coming with me, I'm not going to beg. We'll still be friends." Elle rested her head on his shoulder briefly before nodding over to the sink. He smiled at her and with more effort, got down from the barstool with her help and they walked slowly back to the sink, friends again. 

He was never so cautious about each and every of his actions, literally. 

"I know you sent your mom and dad to the movies with Hallie, but where's Frank?" 

"Dying to see him?" Joe teased. She narrowed her eyes lethally before her features relaxed. Shrugging, her eyes hooded over with some regret. 

"Your brother is going to get married soon. I'm not someone to break up a wonderful couple meant for each other. Besides… someone else asked me out on date. And I'm quite interested. That someone else told me something very interesting too. Frank thinks Richard Thompson has a partner. The someone else did some checks and asked some questions. Richard Thompson's landlady recalled him 'going downstairs" to make calls quite often instead of using the phone in the house. With Frank's deductions, the presence of another party seemed rather plausible. Simon's on it now but he does not have much leads." 

"So the case's not ended yet?" 

"They are still in the process of establishing Richard Thompson's contacts- the people he knew, talk to... etc. etc. This guy is pretty sneaky. Simon had his computer hauled in but they couldn't get anything from the hard disk. Richard used a deletion program that disallowed forensic programs to obtain information from files that are deleted the normal way." 

"Frank didn't tell me any of these…" Joe knitted his brows as Elle positioned his head over the sink properly before she proceeded to wash his hair properly. 

"He probably didn't want you to worry. The FBI and police are acting like the case is over so the hidden partner won't be alerted. Prudent move." Elle nodded her head sagely in approval, her eyes staring at somewhere else, and water started trickling down into Joe's ears. 

"Hey, hey…. Water in my ears soon! Watch it will you? Frank's supposed to come home for dinner. I'll ask him about it… wait… Elle… is "the someone else", Simon?" 

"Yes. Why?" 

Joe crossed his arms and pouted as Elle hummed the theme from the movie Psycho. He didn't like it at all, he realized. He didn't like Frank not telling about the new angle in a case he thought was over and he didn't like the sudden images of Simon Lee pawing over Elle on their first date. 

She might even wash the FBI's hair, a privilege she reserved for Joe, her best friend! 

Biting down his lips, he couldn't imagine being more annoyed and frustrated. 

***

_"I thought over what you said, Frank, and you could be right. Only, we don't have concrete evidence of a hidden partner. Have read through the case file…" _

_"Right.__ And still, it seemed like solo work." _

_"Looks to be that way.__ But I know now that he makes calls out of a pay phone. We managed to get a list of phone numbers dialed to and from the three pay phones around the area. Nothing suspicious… but there are quite a few unidentified numbers." _

_"I see. I'll come back with the evidence that all of you missed. Thanks, Simon. At least you heard me out." _

_"Least I can do."_

Frank stepped into the farmhouse for the first time since he had rushed his brother out of the attic for help. The policemen had found the elderly owner, David Marlon, lying six feet underground and drew the conclusion, owing to the time of death, that right after Richard Thompson buried the recluse; he proceeded to kidnap Hallie which was why he had soil on his soles- their major lucky break. Frank didn't know why Richard Thompson would kill someone just to occupy his house. Most likely, the reason and chances to clarify just why he kidnapped and killed those children but spared Hallie long enough for Hallie to be rescued, had died with Richard Thompson. 

It was pretty obvious that Richard spent most of his time in this remote farmhouse and as Frank explored the inside under the moonlight, he had a good idea in which of its five rooms had Richard made his nestling place. He stepped inside the corner room, the one which received the least sunlight from its badly positioned windows and raised his eyes at the posters of the same snake plastered all over the walls. 

_Wow. __Reptile__Man.__ Why this snake?_

He remembered that Con Riley had retrieved a snake from where they found Hallie. The case file had identified it as an "Inland Taipan" and nothing more. Now as he studied the pictures of an innocuous brown-colored snake, he wondered if the snake retrieved was the same as the posters'. 

Whipping out his cell phone, he made a call to the expert on this area, Biff. Frank had a vague understanding that two people could connect with each other intimately simply base on a common interest and it seemed like, besides kidnapping children and killing them, Richard's other passion was for this snake. Maybe it could lead him somewhere- wouldn't hurt to try. 

"Hello, Frank! How's the case? Chet told me about Joe and I called our main guy a couple of times. He sounded real weak..." 

"Hey, buddy. Joe's recently discharged and pampered like a king by my mom and dad at home. I'm beginning to think I'm his servant too… his 'gopher.' He's doing fine but nothing's stopping him from eliciting sympathy for some privileges…" Frank smiled wryly at how Joe would wrinkle his face in tormenting pain _all_ the time only to break into a smile when Laura cooed over him before retreating into the kitchen to fix something good and healthy for him to eat. Up till now, Joe had managed to take over their father's den, caused Fenton to rush out and buy all sorts of food that he felt like eating, even if he couldn't consume them yet, and magazines he felt like reading. Fenton even presented Joe with a supplementary credit card to help "tide him over cash flow problems". Plus the mess Joe and Hallie made all the time at home had their parents seriously considered paying extra to the part-time domestic help they hired about a year ago so she would put in more hours to tidy up the den which was looking more and more like a playroom with each passing day. 

Father and daughter were as childish and playful as each other, which was why Joe got along so well with Hallie as they both speak the same language. However, the daughter had an excuse to be childish because she was six and utterly adorable. Her father, twenty-three and some months going on to become a three-year old infantile, desperately needed growing up. Seven years- Frank had forgotten just how bratty and spoilt Joe could be if he wanted. 

"Ah! I kinda figured that out…. So, knowing how busy you are, I don't think you'll be calling me on a Monday evening just to ask about my life. Whassup?" 

"You know anything about 'Inland Taipan'?" 

"Only that they are the most neurotoxic snakes in the planet and they are native to Australia, not to mention, they are highly protected species. Why?" 

"So, to get one over here…" 

"It'll have to be smuggled. Not that difficult to smuggle one in- just need tons of luck, getting past the Australian and America customs." 

"Biff… do you know of anyone who smuggles in Inland Taipan?" Frank asked, a little hopeful. His friends usually had networks that would surprise him. 

"Hey, hey, hey. It's I-I-L-E-G-A-L. If I know something like that, why would I tell you, a law-abiding private D, man?" 

"Biff… I'm not talking about those big-wigs that I'm sure you won't dabble with. But surely you know of people who go to these countries and come back with some extras to boast about which they won't declare in front of customs…" 

He heard Biff sighed. "Yah, some guys do boast about it on this certain message board- Reptile Lovers Chat. There's a locked forum in which… well, the nation's seriously disturbed snakes' fanatics lurk around." 

"I'll go check it out. Thanks!" 

"Don't get yourself killed, Frank. By the way, when's the wedding? I heard it might be postponed." 

"Postponed?" Frank smiled, a little wider. "No… it may be brought forward…" 

"I'll be there. I'll never miss seeing Frank Hardy sign his freedom away for the world- …" 

"I knew you're the one teaching my brother astray all those years." Frank shook his head, unable to wipe the grin off his face.


	35. 34

Chapter 34 edited

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

_"Do you have AIDS, syphilis, gonorrhea, Hep B, other STDs, flu, cold, cough or asthma?"_

_"Huh? No… not that I know of."_

_"Sign here."_

_"What?"_

_"If you want to kiss me, sign this little paper that says you are free of life-threatening viruses and won't die of asthma when things get too exciting. I don't advocate pre-martial sex so don't get your hopes too high up as well."_

_"So, Elle, what happens when I sign here?"_

_"Well, if you sign here and after we fool around a little and I catch something from you, I can find ways to sue your pants off for fraud." She smiled sweetly at him, pushing the paper in front of him while passing him a pen. Simon arched a brow but did so anyway. He signed on the dotted line after going through the long lists of disease, half of which he used to think were some unpronounceable French cuisine. Elle was satisfied and she kept the paper in the hotel room's safe._

_"Now, are you repelled by me?" She sat down an inch closer to him than before. He was overwhelmed, not repelled. She was different and not afraid to pretend to be normal. In fact, though she was so eccentric, he found her one of the most genuine person he had ever met since she didn't pretend to be anyone she was not. "I have mild OCB and can be fastidious with a capital F. If you leave pizza crumbs on the carpet, you have to go vacuum them up."_

_"I got it."_

_"Good. Anything about you that I should know about before we move on to dinner? Any relatives in jail, suicidal thoughts, health problems or credit crisis you'll like me to know about?"_

_"Ah… hmm… well… I really like you and just want to take things slow."_

_She smiled, blushing a little now. He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, catching her by surprise and clearly distressed her for she took out a pack of pocket, antiseptic wipes from her pocket but, to his pleasant surprise, she put it aside after some thought._

_"Is your mouth bleeding?"_

_"No… Elle… why not I go for a medical check-up right now so you can be reassured?"_

_Her eyes narrowed and he realized she was seriously contemplating the option he offered in frivolity. _

_"Ok. If we decide to take things further, you have to do that. I'll do it too, for your safety considerations as well."_

_Simon didn't know why but he started chuckling, more impressed by the girl than ever. She laughed along with him as well and sat close enough to him such that the sides of their hips pressed against each other. He draped an arm across her shoulders and…_

And then his phone rang.

Simon Lee sighed- his very brief and pleasant recollection of the evening's start was over. Anyway, Elle had already left for her own room, citing beauty rest as a reason even though they were having a blast. Still sprawled on his bed, his head against the cushioned backboard while his eyes stared mindlessly at the television showing reruns of Rocky, Simon reached for the phone and mumbled a quick hello.

"Lee! Hey… we got the results of the message board you want to check out…"

Immediately, the skinny FBI agent sat up straighter, turning down the volume of the tube so he would not miss a single thing.

"And? Did you find anything that could be link to Richard Thompson?"

"Yes, and quite interesting. We found some messages written to a Little B- the same signature as those letters the psycho wrote to his dead mother. Anyway, someone was telling _Little B_. about a few months ago, that he or she had obtained an inland taipan for him. Interested in where we traced the IP address of the mystery person to?"

Simon rolled his eyes. His partner, Lance Yoke, loved asking the obvious.

"What do you think? Of course! Spit it out! Now!" 

***

_"_… So I got Simon Lee to check out the message board for us and there was a message to Little B. Simon's FBI partner traced the IP address of the other person to a server in UCLA."

"UCLA?" Joe repeated- his voice came on soft and shellshock over the line.

"Yes…that's what Simon Lee told me just about fifteen minutes ago." Frank Hardy made a split second decision and ran the red light on the deserted road.

"Is this why you asked me where I am the moment you called?"

"Yes. And that's why I called your cell instead of the house."

"Crap." 

Frank heard his brother plopped down onto the bed, exhaling heavily. "Are you coming over now, bro?"

"I'm actually quite near our house. In the meantime, Joe, do some checks. I got Simon to join us and decide on the next course of action."

"What about Ness?"

Frank Hardy pulled his lips into a thin, grim line. "Don't worry. I explained to Con Riley and he's now patrolling Ness' area."

"All right. See you in the porch soon…"

"Joe… wait…"

"Yah?"

"I'm sorry about not discussing this with you sooner… I wasn't sure of my own postulation…"

He could almost hear the resigned smile on the other side when his brother clucked his tongue once before replying. "I'll beat you up and shoot you with my Super Soaker later. Right now, I just want to know if the creep is involved and if he is, I want him to pay."

***

Joe stealthily crept into Hallie's room which was converted from the guest room into a space fit for a little princess. If what they deduced was true, then Joe wondered how he could ever forgive himself for allowing his daughter and ex-wife fall into the hands of a passionless killer.

Very gently, he gazed upon his daughter's face and frowned a little. Hallie was six-years old but he noticed that she was shorter than her peers which shouldn't be as he was six-feet and Vanessa was almost as tall as him. He read somewhere that children who had undergone some trauma or were in depression could be stunted in their growth. Hallie deserved the best and she deserved to be happy. What kind of parent was he if he couldn't give Hallie what she needed?

Could he still give her what she needed? Vanessa and him were over- that was for sure. The 'happy family' part was out of his grip. Tentative fingers brushed the soft strands of gold away from the sleeping child's innocent face and the child stirred.

His child opened her wide blue eyes sleepily. 

"Daddy?"

"Hey, angel," Joe smiled, planting a quick kiss on Hallie's forehead, "Go back to sleep."

"Ok. You sleep too, daddy. Or Grandma will scold you." Hallie warned him blearily before closing her eyes, slipping back into her dreams again. Joe kissed her one last time on the cheek before he left her room, not before he stole another glance at her by the door. The moment he tore his gaze away from her, he missed her already.

But there was something more important to do. Creeping down the stairs silently, Joe tiptoed into the living room, trying to remember where Greg sat when he came over with Vanessa to witness the Richard Thompson's call to him. Kneeling down onto the floor, Joe looked under the two-seater the couple occupied and illuminated the darkened space with his penlight, giving all nooks and crannies their fifteen seconds of fame.

The penlight caught something latched onto the bottom of the sofa on the far left. Joe remembered that was the place that Greg sat on the couch. Joe tried to take a cautious look but he did not dare to make too much noise, knowing that commercially available bugs were so sophisticated nowadays that they could pick up soft sounds like foot falls on carpeted floor with relative ease.

He left it there, not wanting to do anything to the bug before he and his brother could come up with a plan to keep Hallie and Vanessa safe. A car pulled up then into their driveway. Joe struggled up onto his feet and peered out of the window in time to see the Lexus headlights extinguished.

Seeing his brother stepped out of the car with his usual, assured gait, Joe was ever so glad he wasn't doing this alone.

Because he knew when Greg was brought to justice, the real trial would be the aftermath.


	36. 35

Homecoming

Chapter 35

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

"Ok… here's the good stuff… or rather, bad stuff, depending on how you look at it. Greg Bunhill has not always been Greg Bunhill…" Simon Lee reached for his glass of water and took a gulp. Sweat stains marked his loose t-shirt in the sweltering night and beads of perspiration lined his forehead. He arrived at Frank's apartment a minute after the brothers stepped into the apartment, all panting and huffing.

"What do you mean?" Joe rushed Simon and the FBI agent raised a hand, signaling Joe to be patient as he finished his water. The younger Hardy gazed intently into the FBI's eyes, not liking the wait, as the older Hardy laid back on his exclusive easy chair, frowning in contemplation.

"I mean Greg Bunhill used to go by another name a long time ago. Does the name Keith Leigh sound familiar?"

Frank sucked in a deep breath which Joe knew was a sure sign that that the walking encyclopedia knew exactly what Simon was talking about. "Keith Leigh- he was executed in Mississippi four years ago…"

"About when the serial kidnappings started…" Simon cast a glance at Joe's quizzical look and quickly filled the anxious brother in on the details, "Keith Leigh's case was a gruesome affair that rocked Mississippi many years ago. He bludgeoned his daughter and then his wife to death in front of his hapless young son. An unrepentant sadist, Keith actually said on the stand that he enjoyed what he did tremendously and was merely teaching his son a lesson in mortality when his son asked him about death and suffering, after seeing a cat writhing in pain- having the misfortune of being alive still after being ran over by a car."

Joe grimaced as bile heaved up his throat. Swallowing it down, he plucked up some courage to probe further, "And the young son?"

"His name's Justin Leigh. He was eight when his younger sister and mother died while he watched. We dug up his records and found out that he was adopted by a kind family and took their name, Bunhill."

"Greg's Jason Leigh…" Joe whispered, the revelation dawning on him. Simon nodded and Frank hunched over with curled up lips.

"So you're saying that, after witnessing the tragedy, Greg's probably psychologically harmed terribly- I can just imagine it- a question asked in innocence killed his mom and sister- it wasn't his fault but he probably felt responsible, being so young then. Then Keith's execution, which was well broadcast, must have snapped something in Greg. He might have already known the disturbed Richard Thompson already and, together, they formed an unholy union, committing those acts for motives rational only to themselves."

"Well, we do have a psychological motive and something else. Something that tells us why Hallie wasn't killed off immediately…" Simon reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small print-out. "This is pretty fuzzy as I printed it out on low resolution but you can still see the mark resemblance. I have taken the initiative to call the police to stepped up security around your area but both of you beat me to it…good calling." 

Joe took the print-out from Simon, turning ashen immediately. Frank leaned over to steal a peek and let out a low whistle.

"Who's this?" Joe asked, his voice sepulchral and foreboding. The tacit answer was already known to him even if Simon didn't spell it out with spoken words.

"Jenny Leigh, Greg's little sister. She died at the age of six and some months, the same age as Hallie now. Don't they look extremely alike?" Simon prompted softly. "A freak occurrence most probably."

"Yes. And that tells us we must hurry and catch Greg before he strikes again. The fact that he left the bug in the house still means that he's planning something desperate. I don't think he left town yet. I think we can deduce that commercially available bugs have a transmission range of about a thousand meters or less. Unless Greg is hiding out in another car, he should be residing in a motel nearby our house which should be within the radius." Frank exchanged a knowing look with Joe. 

"Sunny's Bed and Breakfast?" Joe ventured a guess and Frank nodded. 

"Yes. It's definitely worth a shot," His brother eyes swept across both Simon and him, meeting with nods of grim, silent approval.

***

"See anything?" Frank asked Simon who was peering into the motel room using a pair of binoculars from the inside of their rented Toyota which they obtained without much fuss from the twenty-four hours car rental at Bayport's local airport. Frank casually asked if their only Porsche was returned and the sales assistant nodded enthusiastically, thinking that they were big spenders and was a little disappointed that they rented a common Toyota instead. By some stroke of luck, the sales assistant, with some bitterness and resignation, commented something about the previous hirer of the Porsche exchanging a 'beauty' for a 'plain Jane.' When Frank asked about the 'plain Jane,' the sales assistant sighed and told them that the previous hirer exchanged his Porsche in the wee hours one morning for a common Nissan.

Not wanting to leave any grounds uncovered, Frank messaged his father to keep a close watch on Hallie. Joe was adamant about going to the Benders' to break the news and warn Vanessa personally and Frank was insistent on going with him. However, Joe pushed Frank and Simon to go ahead to the motel, arguing that Greg would most likely be there and if they waste anymore time, Greg could make his move or escape and they would never catch up with him. In a way, Frank was glad that Joe wasn't here with them- in case they needed to get into a cross-fire; his recuperating brother wouldn't be placed in anymore danger.

When they reached Sunny's Bed and Breakfast, Simon did some clandestine surveying and noted a Nissan in the car park of the motel, rising up their hopes. Together, they interviewed Sunny, proprietor of the motel and after Simon flashed his FBI card, Sunny was free-flowing with information. He ascertained that a man who looked like Greg rented a room under the name Adam Smith a week odd ago- around the same time when Greg was supposed to have left for his Economics conference in UCLA. Adam Smith too was a famous late economist and Frank thought that Greg could have pulled the name out of a hat instinctively due to his area of expertise.

"Nope. Looks like our main man is asleep. Let's go make our arrest." Simon turned and winked at Frank who smiled back, a little uncomfortable suddenly. He knew it was late but it was strange that Greg could actually sleep if he was planning something big…

_Silly.__ He's human after all. He needs his rest. Maybe this time, Frank Hardy, you can actually stop a killer before he does anything tragic to others or himself._

"This thing will blow over soon. Your brother and his family will be safe again." Simon nodded towards the outside, indicating they should get their butt moving, "C'mon."

The two men strode up confidently towards the motel room although the assured steps taken by Frank were a façade. Richard Thompson, with the help of Greg, had pulled many fast ones on them, always a step ahead of them. Suddenly, as they approached the darkened room, a queasy feeling churned his stomach and he had an ominous feeling that his situation, which the thought would be the most dangerous as they would be catching Greg by surprise, was actually the safest.

_Please let Greg be inside here…. Please God… Don't let him be so intuitive or smart to make a faster move than us…_

_Let him be here, not anywhere else. _

Simon knocked on the door before quickly stepping aside, gesturing for Frank to do the same in case Greg started shooting through the door.

Nothing happened. Frank's heart pounded faster.

"He could be in a sound sleep…"

"I'll go get Sunny to open the door for us." Frank offered, hurrying on his way as the ominous hands of Fate and miscalculated moves enveloped him.

Moments later, he returned with the motel owner who was fumbling with a large bunch of keys. They got the door to unlock eventually and when Frank stepped inside and turned on the lights, he knew that Greg had inhibited the room as glossy photographs of Hallie and yellowed pictures of his sister laid scattered on the bed.

But Greg Bunhill was nowhere to be found.

***

"Joe…" Vanessa greeted him at the door dressed in a bathrobe pulled over her nightgown for modesty, little surprised to see him. She pushed her fringe back and smiled uneasily, "Hallie's over at your place."

"I know… but I don't need Hallie as an excuse to see you… Ness, can we talk?" He grabbed her hands and glanced inside, noting that the house was empty. 

"Where's Andrea? Asleep?"

"Mom flew to New York to take care of some business. Joe… I'm tired. We'll talk tomorrow, all right?" Vanessa stifled a yawn but Joe knew it was feigned.  He tried to push his way in but Vanessa held fort, refusing him entry.

"All right. Ness, listen. Greg is the kidnapper so if he calls you or asks to see you…"

She shot him an incredulous look and stood still with her arms akimbo, "Joe, I am beginning to think that we can be friends but…but this takes the cake… can you stop being so childish and…"

"Ness! I will never say something like that of anyone have I not evidence. But Greg planted a bug in my house and that's how he warned Richard Thompson of our activities so Richard Thompson can be a step ahead of us all the time. We found out that he never left Bayport- Chief Collig can confirm that for you. And he actually had another identity many years ago- you see, his kid sister was killed by his father and I think it's no coincidence that Hallie looks a hell lot like her… Simon and Frank are making an arrest as we speak. We kind of deduced where he could be, most likely."

Vanessa softly closed the door behind her before taking Joe's left wrist in her hand. "What rubbish are you spouting this time, Joe? I don't have time for nonsense…"

"Yes, you have time to listen to what I have to say or you'll just be slamming the door in my face. Greg must be acting a little out of sorts lately, right? Think about it Ness… Please…." Joe clasped his right hand over hers, imploring her with all his sincerity. Vanessa looked behind her, troubles lining her face.

"Joe… I…" She stuttered for a moment and closed her eyes, shaking terribly. Joe's heart melt and the knowledge that stabbed at him like a thousand daggers returned with an old resignation. He had always been in love with her- all other girls, including Elle whom he really liked, were but side distractions. The reason for his inability to move on was as clear as a supernova in the stark blackness of the Universe- the reason was her, Vanessa.

He pulled her close and soothed her hair, understanding how she must be feeling right now- should she trust him or her husband? Either step might damn her- trust him and if he was _spouting nonsense_, she would lose her family. Trust her husband and if he was right, then she would be putting Hallie in peril.

She could never put Hallie in peril and women were the most intuitive creatures he ever came across. 

"Joe, what do I do?" She pulled away from him, tears streaming down her cheeks as her eyes shone too brightly with fear, "I…"

"Don't worry. Frank and Simon will bring Greg in to justice. I have faith in them. I just wanted to know you're safe so I came over- also to warn you as well, just in case… you know. I think I'll head over to where they are now. They may need back-up…"

"No… Joe…" She whispered urgently, "Greg is taking a shower… he came back yesterday, saying that he wanted to be with me."

"He's inside?" Joe inhaled in sharply. Why couldn't, for once, they be ahead of Greg Bunhill?

"Yes… I…"

"Go back in, I'll sneak in behind you. Pretend to know nothing… I'll think of something…"

"Joe…" Vanessa bit her lips and Joe pulled her in once more for a quick hug. 

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, not even a strand of your hair."


	37. 36

Chapter 36

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Homecoming

The cascading clashes of the showers ended abruptly with a squeaky turn of the tap. A careful hand ran across the covers as the pounding was assured, ironically, with the feel a hidden gun.

Watchful eyes gazed upon the door to the bathroom. _Soon_, the inward voice was calm and steady because the mind knew and understood the purpose. __

_Soon. Get ready._

The door slid open as the man, clad in a towel wrapped around the waist, stepped out, his head facing the ground as he rubbed at his short, wet hair with a smaller towel. A hand slipped under the cover and made contact with the cold, metallic handle of the gun. In a perfect setting, the gun might not be used at all. However, if the need arose, when death of a loved one was on the thin, taut line, there would be no hesitation to use it for defense.

For defense. A prayer went out to God who was barely spoken to that such a situation would not come to pass.

"Darling, can you pass me my spectacles?" Greg Bunhill asked as he walked towards the dressing table without even taking a glimpse at the bed where his wife would be sitting on, waiting for him, "It's on the bedside…"

But the mirror saw and presented the scene behind him into his line of vision. His green eyes blinked once before he stood up from the stool and slowly turned around.

"Hi, dear." Joe drawled, cocking a brow as he threw Greg a mocking half-smile.

***

_"No."_

_"No?" She stopped dead in her tracks to her bedroom and turned around, staring at Joe, "What no?"_

_"I don't know how dangerous this will get. __Ness__, take my car. My cell phone is in the glove compartment. I want you to drive as fast as you can to the police station where you'll be safe- in the meantime, call the police and call Frank. I may need backup." He strode up to her quickly and pressed his car keys into her palm. She shook her head vigorously, not liking his stupid idea._

_"I'll be your backup… Joe…"_

_"No, __Ness__. You'll be a distraction. I may be too busy saving you…" He smiled at her, a little sadly. "Quick, listen to me, all right? I know what I'm doing. Please… don't let me worry about you. He's coming out… __Ness__… Go!"_

_"Joe…"_

_"Just go! I can handle this… by the way, is your mom's gun still in her dresser?"_

_"Yes… it's unlocked… Joe, please… be careful…" _

"Joe! Where are you? Greg's not…"

"I'm Ness, Frank!" Vanessa inhaled in a sigh of relief upon hearing Frank's voice. She merely drove out of the driveway to mollify Joe but parked a little distance away from her house, defying his requests, "Joe's back in my house with Greg!"

"What? And where are you? Ness, I'm coming right over! I want you to go somewhere safe…"

_Sheesh! They do think so damn alike!_

"I am, Frank. Don't worry about me… hurry over now!" Vanessa almost found herself yelling into Joe's phone before she disconnected the call and threw the phone onto the passenger seat. Reversing the car and maneuvering a three-point turn, the tires kidded as she sped all the way back to the house.

***

_I **had** the upper hand! _His mind shrieked like an angry child would as his chin collided painfully with the floor. _I had, I had, I had!_

_"You think a gun is going to stop me, detective? It's not going to work. You could have let it go and let me bring Vanessa and Hallie back to L.A…"_

_"You're not going to bring them back to __L.A.__ At least not Hallie…"_

_"Hmm… how did you come to that conclusion, I wonder?"_

"Ah…" Joe gasped as he tried to struggle up but Greg's foot pressed torturously on his spine. His half-opened eyes caught sight of the gun which had fallen out of his grip during the scuffle as his arms flailed desperately for it.

_"It wasn't difficult. You were coming back for Hallie. I'm her father, I know."_

_"I'm saving her, you idiot! And now, you just ruined everything."_

_Greg stood up. Joe took that as a cue and lifted the covers with a flourish, picking up the hidden gun and trained it at Greg._

_"It's over, Greg. Give yourself up. You can get help."_

_"Help? Why not shoot me, detective?" Greg unexpectedly picked up the dressing table stool and flung it in Joe's direction, distracting him. It missed him by an inch but not the punch which Greg landed into his stomach._

"Ooh, look, the gun. Gee, how sweet. You can't get to it." Greg almost cooed as he stormed his foot down onto Joe's back. Joe mouth gaped into a soundless scream before a punch clipped the side of his head- exactly where Richard Thompson had cracked his skull before.

Joe didn't want to seem weak but a sharp, paralyzing spasm of pain shot through his whole body from his gut wound which was already madly throbbing from the punch. At that moment, Joe had a fleeting wonder if he was really created as an afterthought as the Almighty didn't seemed to be looking out for him at all. 

"You know something, Hardy? You want to know my plan?" Greg taunted him as he was being rolled over brusquely. Face to face with Greg now, Joe tried to remember seeing an uglier face.

I'll tell you but first, where's Vanessa?"

"She's… in… my…" Joe whispers died off and Greg frowned, unhappy. The man leaned over and Joe, ignoring the pain and aches, brought his hands up and clapped Greg's head in between them vehemently, "Pocket!"

The move annoyed Greg but didn't falter him much. Joe tried to kick Greg away but Greg lunged at him and gripped his neck in a strangulating chokehold.

"I'm going to take Hallie and we are going to _die_ in a fire. Hallie will be burned away and she will become Jenny. I will have saved her from father! Father will be pleased with other kids and he will let me take Jenny but you ruined it! Don't you see? Father will see her and father will take her again! But father will give me, this time, what I want. You put her in danger, you bastard!"

"You're sick! Come on, Justin…" Joe wheezed and Greg's hands relaxed at hearing his old name, "You know you can't do what your dad did. You just need some help…"

"Yes… Justin… I'm… I'm Justin Leigh… my dad's Keith Leigh…" Greg's voice grew a little dreamy when suddenly, the death grip tightened and the maniacal glower were in those green eyes again, "YOU IDIOTS KILLED MY DAD!"

"Justin, I didn't kill your dad…"

"YOU IDIOTS KILLED MY DAD! IT'S MY FAULT! I'M JUST TRYING TO SAVE JENNY! YOU'RE NOT WORTHY OF HAVING JENN…"

The vase came down on Greg's head just when stars were beginning to fill Joe's vision into one big blinding glare. As Greg crumbled down sideways onto the floor, Joe's eyes fluttered as his vision cleared and he could finally breathe again.

"Thanks, Ness…"

But Ness wasn't standing still in place, smiling back at him. Her hands flew to her eyes as she collapsed to her knees on the floor.


	38. 37

Homecoming Chapter 37 edited

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Hesitantly, Frank took the first step into Vanessa's room. He had heard muffled sobbing and he was sure, so did Simon. The anxiety bubbling inside was just too overwhelming and he had dashed to the source where the sadness poured from, all ready to pound Greg into mincemeat if necessary.

However, when he caught a glimpse of what had transpired, he stopped dead in his tracks by the entrance. A couple of seconds later, Simon skidded to a halt next to him as well.

Joe looked up at the both of them mirthlessly from where he was, kneeling down on the floor with a few new bruises, holding onto Vanessa whose back was facing them. Her body was shaking with the forcefulness of her sorrows. Frank's eyes strayed to the unconscious Greg lying on the floor next to them amongst the scatter of porcelain shards. The movements of breathing was noticeable still from the comatose form but Frank also saw that Greg's hair was damped with blood.

He walked gently over to Joe and Vanessa, laying a hand of comfort on the crying woman's shoulder. Joe stroked Vanessa's hair and updated his brother softly. 

"I have called the police and ambulance just a while ago. You're early, bro."

Frank took one more look at Greg's form and for a fleeting instant, thought he saw his brother lying in the same position only that he was lifeless. Shaking his head, he sighed.

"Not early enough, it seems."

***

**_A month later_**

Joe stood by the entrance to her bedroom, leaning against the open door with one hand pressing on his stomach. He watched her silently as a multitude of confusing emotions squeezed his heart tightly- if he should speak, it would only be whimpers. It was difficult to look at her, though he was fixated. More daunting it would be to talk to her.

But she asked for him. He was supposed to bring her and Hallie out for dinner, as usual, to cheer her up. Hallie was always in high spirits when they were together, holding on to one each of their hands. Anyone walking past them would have mistaken them for a happy family but Joe knew Vanessa's smiles were only for Hallie, hardly for him. 

Right now, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the window, her supple back towards him. He could tell from her posture that she was holding something in her hands- a photo frame? Occasionally, she would dab at her eyes and the only thing that was keeping him from rushing over and love her the best he could was the barrier between their hearts- his was beating for her and hers for beating for a person who never was. Joe sucked in a deep breath when he noted those lustrous locks of ash blond hair was lifeless- split at the ends. Her depression was deeper than he initially understood and his worries for her deeper still. It had everything to do with Greg's confession. Greg didn't even ask for Vanessa or Hallie. When he woke up from his brief spell of coma, he admitted to everything.

Suddenly, a spasm cramped Joe's stomach. Caught unaware, he let out a small yelp. She turned around immediately and smiled tiredly when she saw him. He tried to return the gesture but all it resulted in was a grimace. Anxiety further shadowed the dark circles that bordered her gray eyes which, instead of dulled, was gleaming unnaturally.

"Are you all right?"

"Yah… don't come over… I can walk. It's just an old thing… funny… only about a month and a half and I'm calling it an old thing… how… well, you know…." Joe bit down on his lower lip, embarrassed by his mindless rambles. He gazed down on the floor for a brief moment to recollect his composure and thoughts before facing her again, grinning widely now that the pain was reduced to a merely annoying throb.

"Hallie's with Andrea downstairs. You wanted to see me?"

"Yes… come here…" Vanessa set the object she was holding aside, shifted her body a little and patted the space next to her. Joe made his way slowly to her bed and sat down gently, not wanting to rock her or cause impact to his own, disobeying body. Stealing a glance behind his shoulder, he realized, with some breaking of his heart, that she was holding on to her wedding photo with Greg- the acrylic covering was smudged with fingerprints and smeared tears. Again his mind had to wander- did she held their wedding photo and cried silently when she gave up on him?

"Joe… I just… well, I never thanked you properly for all that you've done… letting me cry on your shoulder, being strong enough for Hallie and me. You've gone beyond the call of duty for a friend…"

Slightly embittered fingers raked through soft blond hair. Joe felt his soul shriveled at the dreaded word- friend. They were once joined in body and spirit. Never should they part but, somehow, they did.

"I'm Hallie's dad. Least I can do." He tried to shrug it off. Vanessa's feelings were more important. He could always nurse his wounds later by doing what he always did- call Elle up and listen to her consolations masquerading as tactless barbs. Or he would always go over to Frank's apartment with the pretext of watching a football game together when in actual fact; he wanted his brother's objectivity and wisdom.

Ah, his brother. Despite all the help and support his brother had given him when he was trying to be there for Vanessa and having his heart broken everyday with the realization that it was perhaps never going to be, they hadn't had a talk. _Later_, Joe promised himself. _ There's always later. After Frank's wedding of course. And his honeymoon. And then his post-honeymoon. _

A tiny bit of guilt gnawed his chest- Frank had postponed his wedding to Callie because of the aftermath of the case. Callie understood, of course, but any fool could see that she was disappointed, being human after all and most importantly, a girl madly in love with Frank Hardy. It was no secret that she couldn't wait to tie him down so no other feminine hands could lay claim to him.

Vanessa touched his hand lightly, sending both electric and acid surging through his veins. She let out a small, nervous laugh and threw her hair back. "I didn't mean it that way, I'm sorry. Of course, with the history between us, we are more than just friends… but that's all we can be, Joe. More than just friends and yet, nothing more. Do you…do you understand?" She gazed deep into his eyes, imploring for him to comprehend her womanly, cryptic message.

He, for once, wasn't so dense. "Hey, don't worry. I never thought of anything more than well, _more than just friends but nothing more_. I mean, I totally understand. It's cool with me… you know…"

"Joe, I'm going to Hong Kong for at least a year." 

"Wha??" Joe's blathers were interrupted by her sudden announcement. For a moment there, he had forgotten what and where Hong Kong was.

"Hong Kong. Phil's brother, Mike? He has an animation film there and a position all ready for me. They have a huge project for a series of anime that is slated to be the next big thing in the cartoon world of Asia. I…"

"Surely you want to think it over?" Joe clasped his other hand over hers, disbelief freezing his eyes such that they couldn't even blink, "I mean, a year? Hallie will have a difficult time adjusting to the culture there…"

"Which is why she's not going. She's staying with you. Laura and Fenton loved her dearly too and besides, it's not like I'm not coming back once in a while…Joe… it's only a year… maybe two but two maximum..."

_A year or two. _Joe thought sardonically. _Then three, maybe four. Hey! I like it so much there I think I'm applying for PR. I may even not come back at all! You don't mind, do you? After all, it's not like we're married or anything!_

"Ness, let me present you with a… a hypothesis…" Joe started slowly before he swallowed down his words with a big gulp. Inhaling in deeply, he willed for strength and courage to finish the crazy question that popped into his mind. "If I stay here in Bayport with Hallie, discounting the fact that you're willing to let me have her, and I stay here for a long, long time… will there be anything left here to give you a reason to not…" He pressed his lips into a thin, hesitant line. Now, that did it. There was always a risk of rejection tagged to any questions like this.

"… to not go?"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled sadly. As she reached out to caress his left cheek with her free hand, he almost thought she was going to answer in the positive. Maybe he could lean forward and kiss her, let memories of the love they shared, that he still had, flood right back into her and then she would know she was going to miss out something great if she pack her bags and go.

"No, Joe. I thought you said you understood. I do love Greg. We have great moments and he… he was my rock for a very long time. I don't know why he did what he did but… but in my heart, the Greg I know is very different from the Greg they paint in the press; from the Greg you see. You deserve to be freed from all these baggage and start afresh too- perhaps I should rephrase what I said earlier- we will always be good friends."

He blinked several times into her face before turning away as his hands relaxed, loosening their grip over hers. The hand stroking his cheek fell helplessly down her side as well. Staring down on the parquet floor, taking in the scent of lavender oil in her room, Joe let her straightforward intentions of never patching up sink into his mind. Then he looked up and gave a goofy grin.

"Whoah. Load off my shoulders too. I mean, it's only a hypothesis and I'm glad things are cleared up. I'll always be great friend. You're right, I mean, I have something good going on with some girls too, yup, I have been dating for a while in Chicago and I may call some girls again… I mean, there's Melissa, she's real cute, you know… I think she has the loveliest black hair… wait… I mean red…forget it. I just want to say I totally understand. You have to go and find some solace from all these and it's a great opportunity, not to be passed up. Maybe you'll meet some guy who will love you the way you should be loved- the best love…. I understand… hey, I'm…" She let him blabber, knowing that he would rattle on when he needed to calm his nerves and sort out his thoughts sometimes. However, no self-heroic words could stop the sting that came to his eyes and nose. Abruptly, he turned away from Vanessa as his vision blurred and his features crumbled.

"No, I don't understand. I tried everything. I tried my best. I love you. And I don't understand." He whispered, reliving the morning when he woke up to find his family out of his life again. Abandoned. Rejected. Feeling crappier and more unwanted than dung.

"Joe… I'm sorry…" She touched his shoulder with aching tenderness, digging deeper into the festering wound in his heart.

His body shuddered once before his right palm flew to cover his quavering lips.


	39. Conclusion

Chapter 38

**Conclusion**

Homecoming

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

_"If you can pick out all the furniture and ornament in your apartment, you can jolly well pick out the wedding invitation card! I mean, I did everything! I chose the flowers, the ribbons, the way the chapel is to be bedecked, the band… and you! You just chose your tuxedo and tell me the gowns I've tried are all fabulous! Like that comment is going to help me lots when I'm cracking my head over those gowns! And when I pick the halter, you have to tell me the princess-gown was better. And when I took the princess gown, you thought the halter looked more sophisticated! And the cake!!!! Don't get me started on the cake!!!!!"_

_"Ah… ok… I'll pick up the card. You go home and rest…"_

_"Our wedding is coming soon!!!! FRANK HARDY! DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED TO ME OR NOT? I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO POSTPONE IT AGAIN, AGAIN!"_

_"We'll get married!!! I paid the deposit for the band, the decorations, the caterer and everything else right? We'll get married… don't worry about anything, all right? I love you! Wait a minute… is it that time of your month again?"_

"Hey Joe, cherubs, roses or this lovely little cross thingy? I really can't decide…" Frank threw the cards down on the coffee table, leaned back against the back of his sofa and closed his eyes for a much needed break. Tension was rising high because Callie suddenly had some paranoid idea that he was going to push the _date_ back again, which he wouldn't. But he knew where she was coming from- a girl could only have so much patience after being disappointed again.

On the other hand, it was kind of nice and even flattering to know that Callie was dying to tie him down. He didn't know he was that hot a commodity.

"How about an airplane?" Joe mumbled sourly, staring at the television with the frown of a grumpy old man. Seeing his brother all uninterested and hindering him even, Frank wondered if roping Joe in to assist in picking the card design was all that wise.

"An airplane? Joe, I'm not getting married in mid-air…but it would be nice and all… you know… to say your vows on an airplane…I think the cherubs real adorable… Cherubs it is."

"What's the point of going through this trouble? Just pick a damn card! People are going to throw it away after your wedding after all! I never had to choose all these things…" Joe bit down his lower lip before reaching for his mug of water and took a deep gulp.  Frank knew Joe's temperament too well to be riled by his brother's offensiveness, a little annoyed maybe, but not angry.

Laying a heavy hand on Joe's shoulder, Frank took a drink too before he investigate Joe's hostility towards everything lately in greater details. It was definitely about Vanessa, nowadays, Joe's ex-wife's depression and imperviousness to his affection was all that the younger Hardy could think about. Frank felt almost sorry that Joe had to exhaust all his efforts and still have Vanessa side-tracking the topic of reunification all the time, however, he hadn't the heart to advise Joe that maybe it was too soon- Greg's actions and arrest would undoubtedly scar Vanessa towards relationships for the time being. Nonetheless, his brother had carried the torch for so long- with an aching hand; with a hopeful grip and with an unyielding passion. Sometimes, the licking fire burned him deep but any fool could see that Joe could not extinguish the flame- did not want to even.

"So, what's it now?"

"Shut up and choose your card. Take those winged babies. They're the nicest looking."

"Bro?"

"I'm ok, just irritated by this stupid show. Hadn't they aired it last week? I mean, are our stations so short on films?"

Frank sighed, curling his lips in tired resignation. "Can I hazard a guess?"

"What?"

"Phil told me his brother contacted Vanessa to work on a project. Now, his brother's firm is in Hong Kong and if Vanessa agrees, she'll be relocating for a while. Is that what's bothering you?"

"Should I just pack and go to Hong Kong?" Joe turned towards him, a worrisome intensity in those swirling blue orbs. Frank softened his eyes in understanding but he wasn't going to coddle Joe with false hopes. The voice of reason came, as usual. That was always what Joe looked to him for.

"Will it make any difference? She needs time… I don't agree with her actions on dealing with this, of course. But if that's what she needs- a change of environment, some new excitement… who are we deny her?"

"Hallie! Frank, do you know that a child who came from a broken family have a higher chance of suffering from low-self esteem? They may even grow a few inches shorter than they should! She's her mother, I'm her father, it's perfectly logical and desirable that we be together… we _should_ be…" Joe hunched over and buried his face in his hands. Frank let his brother catch a breather, knowing Joe needed to expel out some demons.

"I never told you how I spent those years after the annulment. It's difficult, Frank. Not just the anger. Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm waking up to for anymore. I used to wake up to greet her smile and then, suddenly, no one's there. Then there are moments where I just hate myself. I have a six year old kid who's the loveliest and most precious thing in my life. But I'm only twenty-four and a kid myself. I don't know how to be there for Hallie. I always wanted Hallie and now she's here, I'm scared to death that I'll do something wrong. I had already dome something terribly wrong by letting her mother down before with all those stupid insecurities and anger and, in turn, became part of the cause as to why her family cannot be complete. It's not easy and it's so much tougher now that Ness' not going be here so we can walk this path together… don't you see? I only want Ness and no one else to walk this road with me and Hallie… we belong together. We're a family…" 

"I can't say much only that you have to move on. If both of you are meant to be together again, there will be better time to start afresh. If not, then you cannot be happy, holding on to the past like that. It's not fair to you and definitely those around you if you're just going to choose to be unhappy for the rest of your life. You'll be a great father to Hallie, in fact, you already _are. _And you're not alone, bro. You have us. You have me, your wise, wonderful big brother."

Joe titled his head sideways; bringing his red-eyed face out of hiding finally as a mordant smile graced his lips before melting into something entirely sincere.

"Thanks, WWBB. I see you are so influence by the mannerisms of your WWW. Take a leaf from my book, will you? This time, I have more experience than you."

Frank smiled back, cocking a curious brow, "So, what inscriptions are there on this leaf?"

His brother stared back ahead, a wistful look in his eyes. "Treasure this marriage and never take Callie for granted. She's someone you must cherish all your life. We're the men. We take care of the ladies. We don't let them down."

"Thank you." Frank expressed a genuine gratitude. This common piece of advice, coming from his younger brother who had actually tasted the lesson first-hand, held much more gravity. Joe patted his knee before standing up to stretch himself.

"I'm tired. Going home to be exploited by my daughter. Thanks bro, for everything. I'm sorry I'm not much help…" Joe shrugged, leaving his apology unfinished. Frank shook it off, knowing Joe would be pretending to be something else he was not if he had swallowed his agony and assisted him with a big, fake smile. He would rather his kid brother be himself.

"No worries there, brat. Anytime you need your WWBB, just call. By the way, what's WWW?"

Joe shot him an incredulous look, "Duh??? Are you suddenly stupid? Wise, wonderful wife?"

"Oh…" Frank pressed his lips in a thin, taut line. "I thought it meant something wittier and more original. Looks like I have over-estimated your talent for wise cracks. You know Joe; you seriously need to be funny again. It was your best asset."

And this time, the look Joe gave him was positively lethal.

***

"Take care of yourself over there, Ness…" Frank watched as Callie sniffed back a tear while she gave her dear friend a brief hug. He wasn't so sure about anyone else but he was surprised that Vanessa made her mind up so soon and was leaving even more hurriedly, a couple of weeks before his wedding to Callie.__

"Yah, Ness. Here's a Chinese dictionary for you. Tony and I thought it'll be the best present for you…" Chet passed Vanessa the wrapped up parcel after the girls pulled away. Vanessa received it and offered Chet a tentative smile.

"Thanks. I have to learn to read and write a new form of language, I supposed. But I know people in Hong Kong are very well-versed in English too." Vanessa spoke smilingly, shrugging off the daunting task of adapting to a new form of culture away with some haunted look in her eyes. She looked over Frank's shoulders, scanning the airport crowd for someone but it was painfully obvious with each passing second that he was not going to turn out. 

"Mommy, why don't you stay?" Hallie tugged her mother's skirt and looked up imploringly with liquid eyes, "Daddy can bring us for more ice-cream. Mommy, please don't go? Hallie will be a good girl."

Vanessa bent down and pushed her daughter's hair away from her face, her lips twitching as she tried to fight back her tears. Andrea and Laura stood behind Hallie as Fenton looked at his watch- time was almost up. Frank knew his father's frown was not because he was anxious to send Vanessa off. On the contrary, Fenton had wielded his clout and actually initiated a talk with Vanessa with the intention of convincing Vanessa that she need not travel halfway around the world to find solace. She could find it here. More likely, the foreboding grimness on Fenton's face spelt his worry about Hallie's well-being when she realized that her mother was not going to come back for a very long time.

"I'm sorry, darling. Mommy must do this for a while but I'll come back. I promise to come back to you all strong and happy…"

"But daddy said that he will be strong enough for all of us. Daddy can lift a lot of weight, mommy…" Hallie protested, looking so anxious and lost that Frank's heart broke. He knew Vanessa was in depression. From what Joe told him in confidence, he knew Vanessa still loved Greg for who he was when he was with her, not the monster he turned out to be. But surely Joe deserved a chance and more so, surely Hallie?

He sincerely wanted to empathize but he echoed his father's sentiments. Frank could already picture Hallie growing up with a lot of issues to work through. That was unfair for any child. All children have a right to be happy and their parents have the responsibility to bring to bring them up with love…

"Yes, Daddy can but mommy can't right now. Mommy is going somewhere to… to learn how to lift up weight again so I can carry you once more… Hallie… I'm going to miss you…" Vanessa hugged her daughter fiercely, her tears freely flowing now. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry…"

"You'll come back, mommy? Please?"

"Yes, I will. I'll come back for you soon."

"And we will be together again? You, me and daddy?" Hallie asked again, with more hope. Vanessa simply smiled at her and, without any answer, stood up. Before she could address all of them, the announcer proclaimed the last call for her flight.

"I have to go… good bye and take care. I'll be gone for only a while… Frank," Vanessa beseeched Frank's taciturn form, "Please tell Joe to take care of himself…"

"Ness…" Andrea stretched out her hands again and Vanessa quickly embraced her mother one last time. 

"I'm sorry, mom. I have to burden you with my decisions again…"

"It's ok. There's no burden to speak of." Andrea kissed her daughter's forehead. "Just come back soon."

"Bye everyone…" Vanessa gave them all a final smile before she turned around, lugging her suitcase behind her. Before she could take another step, Frank cleared his throat.

"You can always change your mind, Vanessa."

She seemed to pause for a moment but that was all. Seconds later, her retreating back had disappeared into the Departure Hall.

***

_"And now I have with me here a very special dedication going out to __Ness__ from Joe. Here is what Joe wrote. "'Wherever you may be, __Ness__, there's always someone waiting for you to come home.' Ah, __Ness__, here's the song Joe picked for you, You Belong To Me, as sung by Vonda Shepherd."_

**_See the pyramids across the _****_Nile_****__**

**_Catch the sunrise on a tropic isle…_**

**_Just remember darling all the while_**

**_You belong to me…_**

A lone figure sat down on the sand, watching the sky. Her plane would be flying overhead him soon and he felt it was better to wave goodbye to her from her than in the airport with everyone else. So, she had decided. It was all right, he would survive. No big deal.

The summer's night was still and humid and the rhythmic waves gave him no respite. His eyes on the winking stars, he couldn't help but feel that the icon for hope, scattered across the blanketed night in infinite multiples, couldn't lift his spirits up as it used to when he was child. Guilt gnawed his conscience, he could imagine his daughter crying at the airport but he wasn't there. He really couldn't be there.

**_Walk the market place in old _****_Algiers_****__**

**_Send me postcards and souvenirs_**

**_Just remember when a dream appears_**

**_You Belong to Me…_**

He didn't want to cry.

What more could he have done? Should he have gotten down on his knees and begged? Maybe suffocate her house with a thousand red roses? Those romantic gestures which he would have done without second thoughts in his teens for any girls who caught his fancy didn't bring him much faith which was why he only executed them a million times over in those intoxicating reveries. In reality, he could not bring himself to try anymore. A small voice gave him cause for regrets. _You should have thrown caution to the wind. _ It said, _You__ should have gotten those roses…_

_But I don't want to be rejected again._

_Not again._

**_I'll be so alone without you   
Maybe you'll be lonesome too   
And blue_**

The plane roared overhead, leaving streaks of clouds in its passing. Joe stood up hastily and raced in its direction. He ran against the falling grains of sands as the muscles in his legs pumped fiercely- the plane was diminishing and so was his brief surge of irrational hope. Finally, his knees buckled and he stumbled headlong onto the soft dunes, the fall scraping his palms. But nothing mattered anymore- she was gone. A large part of his soul had flown away.

**_Fly the ocean in a silver plane   
See the jungle when it's wet with rain   
Just remember till you're home again   
You belong to me_**

"NESS!" He yelled to no one and nowhere. It was almost like an act of exorcism- to scream her name out of his system. "NESS!!!!!!!!!!!"

**_I'll be so alone without you   
Maybe you'll be lonesome too   
And blue_**

He punched the ground, temporary embedding grains of sand in his skin. Bloated drops of tears plopped down uncontrollably- the release was both heart-breaking as it was cathartic.

_C'mon, pull yourself together. You're Joseph Hardy. _

_You're a father to a __precious__ girl called Hallie._

Pulling himself back up on his feet, he looked up at the stars now, seeing the sweet, naughty face in each one of them. Now those stars could truly be the metaphors for hope.

_God, give me strength. Let me be a good father. Give me strength._

**_Fly the ocean in a silver plane   
See the jungle when it's wet with rain   
  
_**__

And another prayer which was softer but always there, burned into the core of his heart.

_If it's Your will, God, bring Vanessa home to me too. Let us be a family again._

**_But remember darling till you're home again   
That you belong to me_**__


End file.
